Worst Fear a Joker Story
by Meeoko
Summary: They say the night is darkest before the dawn. But I like the dark - I like it a lot! That's why I built an army. An army of fallen angels. Joker-focused fic. Begins just before The Dark Knight. Rated M.
1. Big Marty

_**Worst Fear - a Joker Story**_

**_Meeoko_**

**_Summary : Ever wondered what happened to The Joker before he came to Gotham City? Sometimes, your fears can catch up with you. Short one-shot fic. Rated M for violence, gore and language._**

**_Author's Note's : M'kay. I know I'm supposed to be working on my Avatar fic, but I couldn't get this out of my head. It was just too much fun! The Joker is the most unbelievably awesome, complex character you could ever hope to write about and I only hope that here, I have done him justice.  
This is a tribute to you, Heath Ledger, for your wonderful, inspiring acting._**

**_May you rest in peace._**

_

* * *

_

_Crunch!_

The brass knuckles connected with his face, a satisfying crack following it. The white make-up scraped over the bloodstained gold and Big Marty smiled to himself. That's why people feared him in this neighbourhood feared him. He wasn't afraid to take what he wanted and he would do it by any means necessary. Better yet – he loved his job.

"Now tell me," Big Marty smirked, cradling his knuckles excitedly. "where'd ya stash the money? And ya better be quick about it, clown. I ain't got all day."

Big Marty raised an ear, hoping to hear the beautiful sound of begging that usually accompanied his 'discussions'. The wonderful, intoxicating sound of hysterical sobbing, gasping and wheezing. Begging for mercy and praising his glory.  
He wasn't the top dog in Starholm City for no reason!

But his head snapped up as instead, he heard the slow grumbling build of laughter. Throaty, pained, insane laughter.

The goddamn clown was laughing at him!

"Hey, hey." the clown laughed, his jaw hanging at a funny angle. "Ya mind hitting me on the other side? This kinda hurts. Suppose you'd better even it out. _Or_ you could just smack it back into place."

Big Marty looked incredulous. What the hell did he just say?

So, the clown wasn't a talker, eh? Well, he'd soon beat it out of him. Despite his words, Big Marty _did _have all night and he would enjoy every second of beating this '_Joker' _to a bloody pulp!  
Scowling furiously, Big Marty arched his fist backwards, bringing it down with as much force as he could muster into The Joker's face. The clowns head shot backwards, but snapped right back again, as if he had barely felt a scratch!

What was he – made of metal, or something?

"_Ah_, thanks, Big Guy." The Joker moved his jaw about, a satisfying crunch indicating that his jaw had been popped back into place. "That was really starting to ache."

Big Marty felt a vein bulging in his neck. What the hell was with this freak? There was something weird about him. What kind of self-respecting criminal wore make-up to a _bank heist_? The freakish, poncey kind!  
And Big Marty wasn't in the mood to deal with smoke and mirrors.

"Why you son-of-a bitch." Big Marty growled, bringing his face as close to the clown's as he dared. "You're gonna tell me where my goddamn money is, or I'm gonna just kick the crap outta you til you'll need more than masks and face paint to cover up! How's _that _sound, funny man?"

The Joker didn't seem to be listening. He looked over to the side, chewing something in his mouth.

"You know, there's this old saying. That the people we love take away the mask we fear we can't live without, but know we can't live within." he looked up at Big Marty. "I don't really get it, myself. Not much of a philosopher. But I always thought it sounded better the other way around. The _mask_ tends to take away the people we love."

Marty frowned. What the hell was he talking about?

"At least that's my opinion." The Joker continued, licking at his lips. "But then again, love hasn't really got a place for people like us these days. Ya know the drill – they get burnt, or stabbed, or shot, or mauled. It all gets a bit tiring after a while."

Marty felt wary.  
He walked around the chair, wanting to avoid The Joker's gaze for a moment. His words were beginning to unnerve Marty a little. In all his years in organised crime, working his way up to the top, starting as a hired goon – he'd never encountered anything like this before.

It was like the guy didn't have any rules.

"And by the way," The Joker licked his lips, turning his head back to look at Marty. "I don't wear a mask. Too blasé. The man who has something to hide has everything to lose. That's why I like to keep things...out in the open, shall we say?"

With a swift kick to the back of The Joker's cuffed hands, Marty sent the chair flying. He smiled as The Joker's face skidded into the floor with a satisfying crunch.

"I ain't got time for games and riddles, ya _filthy clown_!"

Marty knew he wouldn't stay down – but it still made him feel safer to let the clown know that his place was on the floor. With the rats.  
You had to let these people know who was boss.

Sure, he was handcuffed to the chair – he wasn't going anywhere – but despite his bravado and brute strength, The Joker still managed to scare the absolute crap out of Big Marty.

He had wanted the job himself.  
Usually, he would have called upon a lower hand to begin the interrogation, but there was something about this guy. Something that Big Marty felt had to be dealt with personally.

The Joker coughed from his place on the floor, his face stuck firmly into the dirt. A small chuckle blew away the dust from his mouth and stuck to the face paint, dirtying it to a dull grey.

"Now....that wasn't very nice."

Marty grunted in exasperation and rolled his eyes. For a moment, he placed his foot on the back of the chair, making sure to grind the toe of his polished boots into The Joker's wrists. The metal chair groaned under the weight.  
Marty loved that sound!

"I think you should start talking, circus freak." Marty lowered his voice slightly. "Things can only get so much worse and I'm not a patient man."

Another chuckle skipped across the concrete floor as the metal chair shook with The Joker's laughter. It was beginning to grate on Marty's nerves.

Letting out an aggravated breath, Marty grabbed the back of the chair and hauled backwards, bringing the clown back up with it. His arms stuck out at a funny angle and Marty smiled at the discomfort the man must be feeling.  
_Surely_ he was getting to him by now!

For a moment, The Joker just sat there, licking his lips as the dust settled. He cocked his head to one side, arching his back and bringing his shoulders forward. There was another sickening crunch as another bone was roughly set back into place.

Marty scowled as the clown let out a sigh.

"You know," he breathed "I'm running out of time and _you're _running out of bones to break, Big Man."

Marty held still, clenching his fist around the golden knuckle-duster.  
Alright, so maybe he wasn't making as much progress as he first thought.

The Joker took in another breath and let it out through his bleeding lips. He looked around the empty concrete bunker, almost as if he was bored!

"Ya know," The Joker spoke, licking his lips. "there's a place in a man's head devoted_ entirely_ to fear. I think I turned mine off a couple'a years ago. Or maybe I just wasn't born with it – I don't know."

Big Marty was stunned. Was this guy for real? He'd been beating the hell out of him for almost two and a half hours now and still the crazy son of a bitch just fed him riddles and metaphors!

"Anyway," The Joker continued, chewing the insides of his mouth "I'm not important right now. What_ I _want to know, Mr, uh, Marty, was it?"

Big Marty clenched his teeth together. The goddamn punk didn't even have the stones to learn his name!

"What _I_ wanna know is – what is _your _fear?" The Joker met his eyes, suddenly serious. "I'm not talkin' spiders or heights, or any'a that crap. No - I'm talking deeper than that. The darker, smaller part'a your little brain. What's in there, d'ya think?"

Big Marty lunged forward, bringing his fists down on the clown again and again. What the clown had said was too freakin' weird for his taste. He just wanted to get this done as quickly as possible, and get his 30 million back.

"Is it your wife?" The Joker called under his punches. "Your little girl?

Marty froze in mid punch.  
His daughter? Mary-Anne? What dirt did the clown have on him?  
No, he shook his head. They'd be fine. They were hauled up in a safe house.

There was no way they could get involved in this! The clown was bluffing!

"Is it, uh...your money?" The Joker shook his bloody head. "No, no, it couldn't be that. See, most criminals out there are all about the money. But you, no, I can see that you're no materialist. You had to work your way up, but you know there's more important things out there."

Marty reared up with a booted foot and belted the clown in the stomach. He gasped, but it soon turned to the same infuriating laughter that chilled Big Marty's blood.

"Hehe, _no?_ Not money. Your boys, right? You're the kinda guy who worries about loyalty. Am I right?"

Marty was getting desperate now. He didn't like the clown's tone.  
Why wouldn't he stop laughing! It was like some sick sort of pantomime and Marty had the front row seat. He wiped the sweat away from his brow with podgy fingers, spitting onto the warehouse floor as he did so.

"Shut it, ya goddamn _freak_!" Marty raged, determined to recover his lost ground. "Tell me where my money is, or I'm gonna add a few _more _scars to that face'a yours!"

The Joker rolled his eyes, making a popping sound with his bleeding lips. Marty felt himself beginning to burn up inside.

"No offence," The Joker pouted his lips, nodding his head to the sides like a twitching animal. "but you seem like the kinda guy who tells lies quite a lot. I mean, don't get me wrong – I just met you. This is no judgement from me, just an observation. But again, no offence intended, I gotta say – I've screwed girls scarier than you."

He threw his head back, bursting into hysterical laughter. The chair he was held to rocked back as he swayed, braying his head back and forth as he laughed. Marty's eyes went wide and he finally felt the vein in his neck reaching the surface.  
His fists tightened over the skin of his hands.

"I mean, _seriously_!" The Joker howled. "The – the big gold knuckles! You've_ gotta_ be compensating for something, right?"

A growl rose in Marty's throat and he reached for the knife in his belt.  
Raising it above his head with a furious cry, he plunged the knife into the clown's leg as hard as he could. Blood spurt out as the knife connected with ligaments and slowly dripped down the man's leg as The Joker's laughter was abruptly cut off.

Marty smiled so that he showed only his teeth. It was an animal grin. He would show this psycho who was boss! He wasn't going to let some goddamn circus freak psych him out over nothing!

What was he going to do? He had nowhere to go!

The Joker didn't laugh anymore.  
One side of his mouth twitched as the oozing blood trickled down his leg and he shut his eyes, letting out a slow breath through his nose. But that was it.

No screaming, no begging or pleading as Big Marty was used to. _Nothing_.

A small smile crept over The Joker's face and he opened his eyes, looking up at Marty with something that he didn't expect. He sighed, almost happily and licked at his lips.  
What was that on his face?  
Excitement? Pleasure? Euphoria?

"Would you mind maybe doing that again, a little bit more to the left?" he asked. "I've got a_ really_ bad itch."

Something crept through Marty like a slow-spreading poison. It shot up his spine and clenched around his heart and his gut with icy fingers. This guy wasn't just some small-town nut. This guy was something else entirely. Something Marty didn't like.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you goddamn _psycho_?!" Marty reached out, punching the clown full in the face again. "Just give me my money and I _might _let you leave with your fingers!!"

Reaching down to the knife embedded in the clown's thigh, Marty grabbed the handle and twisted. The splintering, gurgling sound of muscle tissue ripping and tearing echoed throughout the empty warehouse.

"You wanna know whose boss 'round here, funny man?" Marty shouted in the man's ear. "Well why don't you ask my little friend here, _huh_?"

The Joker's expression didn't change.  
Taking in a few haggard breaths, the smile continued to grow as the blade twisted deeper and deeper into the flesh. He chewed on the inside of his mouth thoughtfully, squinting his eyes every so often.  
He licked at his lips again and Marty was really beginning to get sick of the stupid little habit!

"Ooh yeah." The Joker sighed, chuckling. "That's the spot._ Right_ there."

Marty pulled apart like a shot, kicking a heavy boot into the clown's bloodied leg.  
This was too much! Screw the fuckin' money! He wanted out! This guy was just a big joke! It was scaring the crap out of him!

He was just about to leave and send for one of his handy-men, when the laughter stopped.

"Okay, okay! I'll tell you! _Jeez_, no need to leave so soon."

_Finally!_ Marty thought to himself, more than a little relieved. _The clown's ready to start talking!_

He turned back to The Joker, who was jerking his head, as if asking him to come towards him. Warily, Marty bent down lower towards the man. The smell of stale sweat and face paint made him want to gag.

"Come on, closer, will ya?" The Joker scoffed. "Jesus, I don't bite!"

Unwillingly, Marty got a little closer. He was the most feared man in Starholm City, with the strength and reputation to make the Chief of Police shiver in his polished boots, but he was also incredibly stupid.  
When Marty was close enough, the crazed clown whispered in his ear, looking around guardedly, as if somebody was listening in.

"You know, I just figured out what it was."

Marty didn't reply, too intent on avoiding the clown's eyes. The Joker continued.

"You know, that question I asked you earlier. I just got it! You're _dirty_ little fear. See, you're worried about security, aren't you? How much longer you're going to be able to sleep next'a that pretty little wif'a yours, or if you're gonna live long enough to see your little girl grow up. _Ooh!_ Or if your pretty little wife is gonna find out about all those half-dead girls in the slave trade you like to keep on the side?"

Marty scowled. The fuckin clown better not be baiting him!

"But seriously now," The Joker continued, shrugging his shoulders. "_your _fear just so happens to be one that I'm very good at, well...._manipulating_. It's a talent. Started off as a hobby, but as I always say – if you're good at something, never do it for free."

Marty pulled back. Screw this! He wasn't getting anything outta this freak!

"And, ya know, the funny thing is...." The Joker chewed the inside of his mouth, darting his tongue out to lick at his lips. "Your worst fear will be realised in about, oh say, fifteen seconds."

For a moment, there was nothing but pure silence. It echoed off the cool concrete walls and seemed to bounce back ten fold. Marty seemed to remember something his father had told him once.

_The silence was deafening._

He shook his head. Marty began to walk back towards the clown.

"Think you can touch me, you sick son of a-"

_Ssth!_

A flash of purple.  
The skidding of metal chair legs across the floor.  
A jolt.  
Marty stopped dead. A stifled gasp escaped his lips as his eyes readjusted. He looked down.

There. In his stomach.

Through clouded eyes, Marty raised a hand to the wound, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the knife. It must have been almost eight inches long! How was that possible?

"I wouldn't do that." The Joker's sing song voice echoed in his ear. "Stomach acid really does stain quite badly. And we wouldn't want to ruin that nice suit of yours now, would we?"

Marty could barely turn his head to look at the man behind him. He had been playing him all along. The sick bastard had sat there and let him kick the crap out of him just for kicks! And now...

"You..._you_ -"

His vision was blurring.  
Now he could feel it. The pain. It was coming.  
Slowly at first, like indigestion. But as the contents of his stomach continued to seep out of the wound and mix with the sticky red blood, the pain began to jab and slice at him like a thousand more white-hot knives.

He'd been stabbed before countless times. But there were rules! Nobody would _ever_ let another man die this way!

"H-how-"

A hand, slick with his own blood raised up and patted him on the head like a child. The Joker moved to stand in front of him, with a pleasant smile on his face. Green and purple began to blur together as Marty began to sway.  
How had he gotten free? How long had he been toying with him?

"There there." the clown smirked at his bewildered expression. "It isn't your fault. I know - I'm the best -, but who could expect you to know that? It's a little unfair really, if you think about it."

The bloodied hand rose again to pat him on the cheek as Marty began to convulse with pain. He doubled over, the echo of metal clattering as the knife fell from his hand onto the floor.

"Does it make you feel a little empty inside?" The Joker's voice slinked past his ears like snakes. "To realise that all of your little plans and your guns and your walls were all for nothing? Does it feel like there was something you should have done? Or somebody you shouldn't have trusted?"

Pain exploded inside Marty as he heard the clown's words. He looked down at the wound, the acid pain slowly oozing into the tender outside flesh.

"You see," The Joker continued, tutting. "I'm not like other people. Well, apart from the obvious killing and stealing, I'm not like other people. See – I'm an opportunist. I don't _plan _for the future. I don't like to think of things inside boxes or walls or cages. That's why I don't _have_ a fear."

He expanded his arms, gesturing at himself. He looked almost drunk from the way he moved.

"And I'm fine, see? Look where fear has gotten you." he brought his hands behind his back, stretching. "Ya know Marty - for a big guy, I expected more of a fight. I'm just a_ little_ disappointed."

Marty clenched his free fist, looking up at the clown. Through the pain slowly tearing at him, he tried to force his face into a snarl. This psycho was burning him from the inside out and he was calling _him _a pussy?

"Well," The Joker drawled lazily. "I guess now that I've cleared out your funds, taken out the Starholm PD, burnt a couple'a buildings and hung the mayor, I'd say it's time to move on. There's only so many people you can mutilate and things you can burn before you run out of things to do."

Marty couldn't breathe.  
His hand bunched into a weak fist around the wound as his insides began to light on fire, each fibre and tissue exploding in flames like a trail of gasoline. How had things changed? How had he become the prey?

The Joker continued, as if he was noting down a shopping list. Something shiny glinted in his hand as he waved it backwards and forwards nonchalantly.

"Ya know what's just so...._boring _about this city?" he sighed. "No decision. No anonymity. No spontaneity. People in this city are like.....sheep. All you have to do is put in one wolf and the flock scurries wherever I want them to go. Mediocrity gets so tedious after a while."

The Joker knelt in front of him, though the bulky man could barely concentrate on his face.

"Now, there's this place I've heard of. Seem's like a good place to start a'fresh. Build a repertoire, ruffle some feathers. Gotham City, I think it was. Anyway, I've been hearing all sorts'a stuff about this guy. Some vigilante in a cape, goes around knocking off guys like us in the dark."

Marty almost spat.

_Guys like us?_

His eyes drifted to the safe grey of the concrete floor. A swift slap to the face didn't even raise his attention. He couldn't hold it in any longer!

Big Marty began to scream. Louder and longer than he ever had in his life.

A sharp hand cut him off, the nails biting into the skin on his cheeks.  
He clamped his teeth together, unable to stop screaming. The Joker rolled his eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey! Shush now. Let's not be over-dramatic."

The clown barely even seemed conscious of his own wound, which was slowly seeping blood onto the floor to mix in with Marty's own foul-coloured blood. It was like he didn't even realise it was there!

What was this guy? The masochistic bastard was going to kill him from the inside out and laugh the entire way! He last thing he was ever going to hear was that insane laughter!

"Quiet now. There's a good boy.." The Joker licked his lips. "Screaming will get you nowhere. And I always _hated_ the screamers. Children screaming, old ladies screaming – sure. But on a grown man, especially one of your stature. Well, you can see what I'm getting at. We don't want your men thinking you died like a little girl now, do we?"

Big Marty began to shake.  
Convulsions tore at his body as blood flowed free and fast from the wound, the scorching acid from inside ripping and tearing at the open skin and pooling inside his guts. He continued to scream into the sweaty, bloodied hand clamped over his mouth.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it was dangerous to play with knives?"

Marty saw black spots dancing in front of him as his head was forced forwards, closer to the madman in front of him. Something cold dug into the skin under his jaw.

"Speaking of which," The Joker smiled. "You wanna know how I got these scars?"


	2. Harry Giles

**Worst Fear - a Joker Story**

**Meeoko**

**Summary : Ever wondered what happened to The Joker before he came to Gotham City? Sometimes, your fears can catch up with you. Short one-shot fic. Rated M for violence, gore and language.**

**Author's Note's : Right. So....even though I only got one review for the story this is based on, that anonymous reviewer encouraged me to go on and make a big fic out of this instead of a one-shot (thank you anon reviewer!)**

**This is all about looking into the psyche of The Joker, but with typical Dark Knight plots thrown in. For points of view, I think I'm going to concentrate simply on The Joker, a few of his recruited man and Jim Gordon – because he has an awesome moustache.**

**Anyway - enjoy!**

* * *

"You sure, boss?"

The man didn't answer. A tuft of wavy green hair stuck out from the back strap of his mask as he worked. Newcomer shifted about, eager to be on their way as quickly as possible. The rumours that they'd been hearing about the Batman were far-fetched. Unbelievable. Stupid, even! But nobody wanted to risk the Batman's wrath – real or not.

The whirring sound of the buzz saw was finally cut off and Newcomer took in a deep breath. Sure, there was something a lot more pressing going on in the city right now, but he didn't want to risk being caught.  
Then he'd have to go back to the White Room.

They'd only arrives in Gotham City that morning and already the boss was fixing plans.

Well, no. The boss didn't _have _any plans. But he was thinking about something. Something _big._

The metallic lock fell to the ground with a dull thud and the sound made Newcomer winced.  
They were sitting targets on top of the roof. Anybody could come and see them!

But the boss knew how to make the best of a bad situation. There was something going on in the city that was keeping everybody busy. They could hear the screaming on the islands all the way from the main city as plumed of smoke rose high into the sky. It seemed as if they'd picked a good day to begin business.

"Boss?"

Newcomer looked at the clown mask through the eyeholes of his own. The blank sadness of his bosses mask stared back at him, solemnly, as if it was crying. It made Newcomer shiver. It reminded him too much of the White Room and the Shadow Men.

The boss tilted his head towards the entrance and Newcomer nodded.  
Steadying himself, he gripped onto the wrought steel handle of the great door and pulled with all his might. The old metal squealed in protest as the door swung open, revealing darkness in its pathway. A rusty looking ladder headed upwards into the tower and Newcomer looked at it sceptically, toeing it with his boot.

The boss nudged him in the back, eager for them to be on the move. Newcomer didn't even understand why they were breaking into a radio tower anyway! What could the boss possibly do with it? They should have just blown open the front door and gone charging in, instead of sneaking up to the old abandon entrance on the roof.

But that was why the boss was, well, the boss. His word was law.  
He had saved Newcomer from the White Room and for that, he owed the man his life.

Reaching out a hand and hoisting the backpack higher over his shoulder, Newcomer began the long climb up into the tower. It was chilly in the darkness and the further he climbed, the further that Newcomer wished that they really _had_ just blown a hole in the entrance. He didn't like the dark.

But the dark was better than the White Room. _Anything_ was better than the White Room.

He heard the clinking of his boss behind him as he too made the ascent.  
Newcomer let his mind wander for a moment. The boss had been really.....edgy recently. Well, edgier than usual. The boss wasn't somebody that you messed with. Newcomer tried to remember the first time he had met the boss. But things were still fuzzy and he found it difficult to concentrate. The little voices nicked at him when he tried too hard, telling him not to be so stupid.

Thinking was for smart people like the boss.

Newcomer was so deep in thought that when he banged his head on the top panel, he almost let go of the ladder out of fright. But the thought of the boss standing right underneath him made Newcomer grasp onto the bars even harder.  
If he fell, he'd take the boss with him.  
And if he died, he could never repay the boss for freeing him of the White Room.

A metal tap below him brought Newcomer back to reality and he shook his head as the little snickers and chuckles echoed inside the tunnel. He wouldn't let them laugh at him in front of the boss!

As tenderly as he could, Newcomer reached up, feeling for the handle of the panel. Finally, his fingers brushed against the rusted, dirty grasp and he clutched at it tightly, ready for the signal from the boss. The _all-clear_ signal.

A moment later, it came. Two taps on the heel of his boot.

Newcomer swallowed. If the boss was happy, he was happy.

Biting down on his lip, Newcomer pushed upwards against the rusty door. It squealed and shrieked as chips of rust and dirt fell into his eyes. Years of disuse had made it a very angry door. Not even daring to breathe, Newcomer made a final shove. The panel lifted upwards and a small beam of light filtered through the gap. Holding fast, Newcomer peered through the tiny gap. The radio tower was still in use, even if the back entrance was old and decrepid.  
Somebody might be in the tower and then Newcomer would get it trouble. Worse yet – he'd get the boss in trouble! And even worse than that – he'd be taken back to the White Room.

The Shadow Men would never forgive him for making such a fool of himself!

Squinting as his eyes adjusted to the new light source, Newcomer tried to distinguish the shapes through the gap and the eyeholes of his mask. He looked both ways, double checking. The carpet was blue and there were lots of glimmering little buttons on dashboards.  
Some were lighting up, but most lay still.

Breathing out a sigh he hadn't realised he was holding, Newcomer tapped his boot gently against the rusty ladder twice. His own signal that the coast was clear. Another two taps on his boot told Newcomer that the boss was ready to go and with one hand, he climbed the last step and pushed the grate away. It didn't make a noise, or clatter to the floor. Newcomer had been practicing sneakiness, although the carpet probably had something to do with it too.

Pushing himself up out of the dark tunnel, Newcomer began to unzip the backpack he carried. The bosses mask appeared at the top of the grate and nodded once to him. The boss was pleased he had done a good job!

Smiling inside his mask, Newcomer began to rifle through the contents of the backpack. He couldn't quite understand what most of it was. A lot of wires, some nuts and bolts, a circuit board, pliers and screwdrivers and a big metal stick shaped like a pen with lots of little metal rods beside it. He laid out each item in front of him, organised in alphabetical order from left to right. He didn't know what the metal pen was called, so instead, he left it in front of the line like a centre piece. The boss was walking around, looking at the beeping lights, or checking around corners.

Rising to his feet, Newcomer went to stand beside the boss. He smelt a little funny. Like oil and...paint. He always smelt like that. They stood side by side for a moment as Newcomer looked out over the city, the huge Perspex window before them opening up the city of Gotham like a giant grey Christmas present.

"Boss, what's goin' on down there?" Newcomer asked as his boss picked up a screwdriver from his carefully organised pile. "There's smoke an' fire."

The boss remained silent. He usually did.

Pulling open a large cabinet in the big dashboard of beeping lights, the boss crawled underneath it like he was fixing a car and got to work. Newcomer could hear the turning of metal and the occasional light scraping of wood.  
He continued to stare out of the giant window, looking down on the island that seemed to be on fire. It was pretty.

"I think I'm gonna like Gotham, boss." Newcomer spoke, though it was mostly to himself. The boss didn't speak much until he'd taken his mask off.

"Ey, kid. _Psst_!"

Newcomer looked down at the open dashboard cabinet, where the very bottom of the bosses legs were sticking out. He lent over, bending to see inside the dark stomach of the beeping lights. The boss held out a hand in the darkness towards him, covered with little white flecks of paint.

"Pliers."

Turning back around to his neat lineup, Newcomer plucked the pair of pliers from the pile and handed them to the boss. The hand disappeared back into the darkness of the cabinet and more scratching noises began.

"Circuit board."

And so it went. Newcomer would sit patiently beside the bosses feet until the white hand would emerge from the darkness in search of a new tool.

"Soldering iron."

Newcomer frowned inside his mask. What was a soldering iron? The bosses white hand waved itself once in the air firmly. The boss was getting impatient.

"Soldering iron, kid. _Come on_!"

Worried that the boss would be upset with him if he didn't get what he needed, Newcomer looked over the line-up of tools. His eye landed on the big metal pen. He didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the soldering iron? Clutching it in his hand, Newcomer passed it back to the white hand. A moment later, there was a cough from inside the cupboard.

"Boss?"

"Kid, I need solder to _solder _something."

Newcomer bit his lip. He must have gotten the wrong thing.  
Reaching out towards the new disorganised pile, he picked up the closest thing he could and handed it to the waiting hand in the cupboard. Apparently, the boss was happy with the little metal rods and the metal pen, because he didn't speak again.

Something twitched inside the dashboard and a little spark momentarily lit up the inside. The porcelain of the bosses mask shimmered dimly in the light before the spark died again.

Something thumped.  
It wasn't the boss. But from outside.  
Newcomer immediately started, tapping on the bosses shoe once as quietly as he could – _danger. _

More scraping sounds came from inside the dashboard as the boss hurried to finish his work, and the thumping sound got louder and louder. It was someone coming up the stairs!

Feeling his heart tighten, Newcomer desperately tapped on the bosses shoes again once more, only harder. The boss shrugged him off, but soon crawled out from underneath the dashboard with the tools. Thrusting them into Newcomer's waiting hands, the boss strode across the room to stand behind the door. He raised a finger to the mask. _Quiet._

As quietly as he could, Newcomer stuffed the array of tools back into his backpack, closing the dashboard cupboard behind him so that nobody would notice what the boss had been doing. The footsteps got louder. Somebody was whistling. Newcomer recognised it, but stopped himself before he could whistle along too. The boss remained behind the frame of the door, once again raising the finger to the mask. _Extra quiet._

The footsteps sounded outside the room and the jangle of keys rattled in the door lock as the whistling continued. Newcomer stood frozen stiff, clutching at the backpack. The boss said don't move – he wouldn't.

The squeak of the door sounded as bright light flooded the room. Newcomer felt his eyes burning. There was the sound of something thudding to the floor as the light filtered right to the place that Newcomer stood.

"What the hell's going on-"

The voice stopped. Newcomer looked up.  
It was a big man with shorts on and a cup of coffee that had fallen to the floor. The boss held onto the man, the white hand around the man's mouth and the shiny little knife in the other hand, pressed up against the man's neck. He looked pretty scared.

"_Sh, sh_, _shh_." the boss hushed the man, who's eyes looked as if they were going to pop from his head.

Jerking his head to the side, the boss began to slowly move the man towards the rusty old ladder they had climbed up. Newcomer nodded back, frowning inside his mask. The man's eyes were wild now as he realised what was happening. The knife was pressed into his neck just enough to stop the man from struggling, but Newcomer could see that the boss was getting tired of the game.

His leg was still bad, after all. He'd had a limp the whole way here. Not a bad limp, but a limp. And the boss didn't like to be slowed down.

Bending down beside the grate, Newcomer moved it away from the opening so that only the dark tunnel lay below. The boss let out a sigh, his shoulders drooping a little beside the fat man.

"And here I thought I could get through my first night here without having to kill somebody."

The man's eyes went only a fraction wider before there was a loud crunch and he crumpled to the floor. His neck was at a weird angle and Newcomer stared at it for a moment, wondering if it hurt or not.  
The boss clapped his hands together, sending bits of dust flying away. He toed at the fat man with his boot as he scratched the back of his head.

"Had'ta be a clean death, kid. Can't leave anything here, you understand? Not _this time_."

Newcomer nodded inside his mask, still looking at the motionless man on the ground. On his t-shirt, there was a picture of a little man in a tank.  
There was a little slogan underneath that said; _To The Pub!_

Newcomer stifled a laugh so that it came out of his nose. He liked that.

With a nod from the boss, Newcomer dug in his heels and pushed against the weight of the man. He rolled quite easily, but the neck still stuck out at a funny angle. When he reached the manhole clearing, Newcomer gave him a swift kick in the rump and the motionless fat man fell away into the dark. There was a loud crashing noise and a small cloud of dust puffed up through the hole.

The boss waved away the smoke irritably and quickly placed the grate back over the hole, sweeping away little loose bits of dirt and dust that had accumulated around the edges.

"What now, boss?" Newcomer asked, feeling slightly queasy. He bet the big man made an awful splatter at the bottom.

"Now, we take the stairs, like I said in the first place."

Heading back down the way the fat man had came, Newcomer packed the keys away into his pocket as they hurried down the stairs.  
But wasn't it _his _idea to take the stairs?

* * *

Putting his feet up in the dingy one bedroom apartment, The Joker surveyed the room to look at the four clueless looking men staring at him from around the table. Sighing, he ripped the mask away and wiped the sweat from his brow.  
Leaning back in the chair, he ruffled the back of his hair, feeling bits of dried and crusted face paint fall from his fingertips.

"_What?"_ the men continued to stare at him with open-mouthed stupor. "Jesus, what am I, a goldfish? Stop starin' at me, ya bum's."

In some small way, The Joker took great satisfaction in their devotion. He knew they weren't staring because of the scars, like so many people before. No, they were staring because these lost, confused men, no wiser than boys had nowhere else to go. They looked to him for guidance, having spent most of their lives in asylums and medical centres.

Yes, these were his people.

They wouldn't whisper cruelly or avoid looking at him. Although, that was usually the effect he loved to see on the people he met. He had learnt to deal with what he was a long time ago. It was about time everybody else did too.

"Uh, boss?"

Feeling another sigh building, The Joker licked at his lips, letting a small puff of air escape from between them.

"Yes?"

The larger one scratched at his head, oblivious to what even he was going to say. He was the newest addition to his..._collection_. But he would learn quickly. Give them a direction and they always followed willingly. Like lambs to the slaughter.

"We, uh, we were just wonderin', Boss, about the tower. We ain't been here a day already and the whole city's gone'ta the dogs."

Feeling his eyebrow cock, The Jocker repositioned himself in the chair, moving his feet to rest on the table. His thigh screamed in pain, but he shook it off. Damn that Big Marty! Well, there was no use crying over spilt blood. God knew he'd gotten his fair share back from the stupid crime lord of Starholm City!

"And you feel as if we're....too late?" he asked the man, focusing his gaze directly on him.

The young man squirmed under the watchful eye. He wasn't used to the outside world yet and even direct eye contact would cause him to flinch away.

"I, uh, no, I just, I mean that-"

"What he's sayin' is, what if there's nothin' left, boss?" another interjected. "What if there's nothin' left of Gotham by the end'a the mornin?"

Clearly, he was the most intelligent of them. Or at least the most confident.  
The Joker had often mused about naming his protégés, but often decided against it. It wouldn't do to let them get too uppity. He briefly toyed with the idea of naming the more confident one 'Smart Ass'.  
The only one of his 'men' that had any kind of identity at all was the scrawniest one, Newcomer. Not his most inventive name, he admitted, but the boy was so confused, he had deluded himself into absolute adoration and subsequently hero-worshipping his 'boss'.

Like some sort of angelic saviour.

The Joker chuckled to himself, darting out his tongue to lick at his lips. _Angelic saviour_. Well, at least that was something he could agree with the boy on. He'd been in enough of those nut houses himself to know just how important the daylight was. Just how sweet the air tasted when you stood outside again. And just how much you idolised the person that managed to tear you away from the clawing shadows and the gripping bonds of medicinal drugs.

Yes, in a way – he _was _their saviour. But could somebody be saved when they were already damned?

The boys mistook his smile and chuckled nervously amongst themselves, eager to please their 'guardian angel'. The Joker let them have it. It wouldn't do to go scaring them now. It was a new day, a new place. But most importantly of all – there were new people.  
And The Joker was more than eager to catch a glimpse of the famous 'Batman' that had been stalking the streets as a nightly creature and striking down upon those riddled with sin.

"No, boys." The Joker smiled "There's more here than we could have hoped for. They say that from the ashes, a phoenix will rise. And I promise you, that when this phoenix rises back, we'll be there to burn it to the ground again. And as for the radio tower, you just leave that up to me. I'm ,uh, still deciding what to do with it."

Nods and encouraged smirks brought the boys out of their stupor.  
All it took was a little push.  
The Joker leant back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. Leaning his head back on his hands, he looked up at the dingy smoke-stained ceiling.

"Have you boys heard of _The Batman_?"

The smiled seemed to disappear almost at once. The large one picked at the peeling coat of varnish on the table, whilst the others avoided his gaze altogether.

_So, even the damned feared the Batman_.

"Uh, boss...."

Lifting his head slightly from its resting place, The Joker looked over at Newcomer, who was fiddling with his thumbs. He promptly flopped his head back behind the chair and continued to stare at the murky ceiling.

"Boss...the Batman, he-he looks like the Shadow Men. He's not right, boss. He's not right here."

There was silence for a moment. Relishing in the opportunity for quiet, The Joker closed his eyes against the stale cigarette-stained ceiling and let the comforting blackness wash over him. His eyes were killing him.

"Boss, the Batman.....he hurts the bad people, doesn't he?"

Barely even aware of what was happening around him, The Joker chewed on the inside of his mouth lazily. It was a habit he'd picked up after first getting his scars and it had stuck. He let out a yawn, bringing his head back from the ceiling to rest his chin on his chest.

"Yeah......Yeah, he does."

More silence followed.  
Blinking heavily, The Joker opened his eyes to the four bewildered men staring over at him, all leaning forward eagerly in their seats. He rolled his eyes, though he was certain the gesture went over their heads. They'd been locked in the dark far too long.

"_And_?"

The more confident of the four leant forward just a fraction, 'Smart Ass'. It wasn't a large table and the gesture didn't go unnoticed. The Joker frowned ever so slightly. He would need to watch out for this one, he was just a little _too _sure.

"And what if he gets us, boss?" the boy spoke. "What if he hurts us too?"

Raising his eyes to look over at the drawn and damaged-looking boy, it wasn't hard for The Joker to force a smile.

"And _why_ boys, would he do that?"

Newcomer spoke up, stuttering from the back of the group. He was the most timid, but the most reliable.

"B-because we's bad people, boss. T-the Shadow Men said so."

Ah yes, the elusive Shadow Men. How he was growing tired of hearing about them.

Stiffly, The Joker took his feet down from the table. Placing his elbows on the table, he leant forward towards the huddle of expectant men staring at him. They seemed to hold their breath as they too leant in towards him.

"Not bad men, boys. No, no, _no_. There's something a bit more...._special _about you. No. What you are, my friends, are fallen _angels_. You fell from the skies and I came and picked you back up. Do you remember?"

A small smile crept over his face. There was a time he would have believed all the lies too.

"And _that's_ why we're here, boys. We're here to get your wings back. You see, it was the _Batman_...who stole your wings."

* * *

The phone had been going off the hook all morning.  
Hastily pouring himself some much needed instant coffee, Lieutenant Jim Gordon plucked the phone from the line.

"Hello? Yes, yes, I know. Reports of stolen furniture. Yes, yes, there was a lot of looting due to last weeks incident. Yes. No. _No_. I'm sorry, m'am, but you'll have to take up the complaint with head department. Okay. Yes. Thank you. Goodbye."

"Rough morning, Gordon?"

Jim sighed as he spun his chair around to take the very much needed swill of coffee. It was bitter, but it was good. Romerez was in much the same position, obviously taking full advantage of the free time, with her own steaming cup of liquid dirt in hand.

"We've got complaints coming out from all over the place." Jim sighed. "Damage reports, law suits, reports of theft, missing persons reports – I've even got officers missing in action! And all thanks to some nut-job with a sack on his head!"

Shrugging, Romerez took a long draught of her coffee. She looked tired. They all were.  
Gotham City Police Deparment had been completely rushed off their feet since the drugging of the Goth City bridge islands. Almost a week had passed and the damage was _still _colossal.

"Guess we should be deciding right about now."

Jim shuffled through the paperwork on his desk, searching for a pen as he did so. The amount of paperwork was overwhelming!

"Deciding on what?" he asked, not bothering to look up at her.

"Whether we should be _thanking_ the Batman, or _lynching_ him."

Taking a moment to breathe, Jim rubbed a hand underneath his glasses to massage his weary eyes. He hadn't been home to see Barbra or the kids in almost three days! And sleeping in a revolving chair wasn't exactly doing anything for his back.

Although he hated to admit it, Romerez had a point.  
Gotham would either welcome the Batman with open arms for his deed, or cast him aside like a disease because of all the public damage to the city. The monorail would take at _least _half a decade to repair and get running again, a multistory car park had been totally demolished, numerous houses and roofing had been dented or blown away entirely and the huge lengthy track marks along the roads were making it difficult to transport any affected refugees to a safer location.

All in all, it was about 20 million's worth in damage.

"So, what was it like working with him?" Romerez interrupted Jim's train of thought. "Sanchez heard he let you drive the big car."

To Jim's ultimate relief, the phone rang (not that he was surprised).  
Holding up a finger to silence Romerez, he turned back towards the phone.

"Hello? Yes, GPD, Jim Gordon speaking. Yes. Right, sir, yes. Yes, I'm afraid that you'll have to call the head office to file a missing person's report. Yes. I'll let you know. Yes. Alright. Thank you. Good bye."

"Another missing persons report?" Romerez waltzed over to stare at the computer screen. "What's the toll so far?"

Letting out another weary sigh, Jim took another long draught of coffee.

"Almost seventy missing persons, eight of them cops. Just had some guy saying Harry Giles has been missing for a week now."

Romerez cocked a brow and placed her cup of coffee onto the desk.

"Harry _Giles_? You mean Harry Giles the Gotham Central radio host?"

Once again beginning the hunt for a pen, Gordon nodded sadly. So many people were disappearing. He didn't even know that Harry Giles had lived on the Gotham Islands. Maybe he hadn't. It was easy for people to get mixed up in the wrong things.

"We're in deep, Gordon." Romerez sighed. _"Too_ deep. If the Batman gets driven outta' town, there's not going to _be _a GPD left."

Rubbing at his temples, Jim tried not to let Romerez's affect him too much. Sure, the people hated him, but they'd always hated him. And he always came back then, so what would stop him from coming back again?

He was just about to reply when the phone rang again. Shaking his head, Jim reached for the phone.

"I better get some sort of promotion for this."

* * *

Dawn filtered through the murky windows, barely visible through the grubby shades that covered the panes.  
The Joker was already up. He's been awake for hours, thinking.  
Not about much. Just....thinking.  
Beside's, he'd never really enjoyed sleeping much. Too much noise. Too many things to think about.

The Joker chuckled to himself, stretching out the aches in his wounded thigh. That was something new – a clown who suffered from nightmares.

He smiled to himself, licking at his lips as he rubbed the hair away from his face, mumbling to himself as he went.

"If Steven King can pull it off, then I sure as hell can."

His 'protégés' lay in huddled heaps on the grimy floor, cuddled into each other like cubs in a pack. It was probably the only level of intelligence that they could understand – primal. After all, when you were thrown in one of those hell holes, it was kill or be killed.

And these. These were his champions.

He was tempted to walk past and kick them. Or wake them up with a punch in the face. Maybe some sort of initiation. After all, all the most popular clubs had initiation rights, didn't they? Pondering on these thoughts, The Joker turned back towards the window. There was nothing in the fridge other than a lump of garlic and egg nog that had, judging from the expiration date, been there for over four years.

But he couldn't think about food now, anyway. He had bigger fish to fry.

Today was the big day!

He had finally figured out an interesting use for the radio station. Though he hadn't let it slip, The Joker had had no particular use for the wavelength in the first place. It was just something to _do_.  
To test Gotham's mettle. To check out the action. And he had to say, he wasn't that impressed.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the little remote.  
Much like a walkie talkie, The Joker had planned on using the self-destruct switch just for kicks, but now, he had something bigger in mind. Sure, explosions were always fun. But he was almost _certain_ that there was still more to be squeezed from Goth's tiny neck.

It had had enough time to recover from the 'Scarecrow Incident' everyone was talking about. They'd lain low for a week. But now it was _their_ turn. _Their_ time. And no matter how long it took, he would make it _his_ city.

Just like he had crushed Starholm. Just like he had crushed Glockson.  
Just like he would crush everything!

But there was one thing in Gotham City that The Joker was particularly interested in.

One man he had been eager to meet since hearing the very first rumours in Starholm City. The man in black. The vigilante bat.  
Of course, he didn't expect to be on the right end of the Batman once they met. Vigilante's and mass murderers weren't exactly compatible. But he didn't expect that. No. He expected to be tried. He expected something _more. _And he _welcomed _the challenge.

Flipping on the tiny switch in the side of the walkie talkie, The Joker contented himself with waiting for a few moments to savour the slow tingling crackle of the static. No matter the result, it was certainly going to prove a good experiment.

If the Batman came to him, so be it. If not, then he would keep on trying.

And he was a man of his word.

* * *

Jim woke with a start.

At first, he flustered about, unsure why he could only see yellow. Readjusting his glasses, Jim caught the slip of paper that was stuck to the rim. It was a post-it note.

_Go home. Get some rest. You deserve it.  
__Remerez_

Grumbling to himself, Jim scrumpled up the post-it and threw it into the bin. He had fallen asleep at his desk. The computer screen was on standby and he moved the mouse to reveal the same screen he had been staring at so religiously the night before.

Or at least, he _assumed_ it was the night before.

Walking over towards the blinds, Jim lifted up a flap to peer outside into the streets of Gotham. It was nearing dusk, his most hated time of the day. Dusk was when the criminals decided to come out and he had slept far too long.  
He'd almost missed half a day!  
Rubbing at the back of his neck, Jim stood up from his chair with stiff joints to peer over the other into the other cubicles.

There weren't many people. Most of the units were out on duty, helping to clear up the mess that The Scarecrow had made. Nearly all patrol cars were needed outside and as usual, he was left doing the paperwork.

Walking towards the coffee machine, Jim poured in a decent amount of powdered coffee and left the water to boil. Perhaps he should call Barbra. It'd been almost two days since he'd spoken to her last. He wondered how she managed to put up with him sometimes.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Jim sat down with his now steaming mug of swill and switched on the radio. He was so tired of hearing police reports, it would be nice to hear how the rest of Gotham was coping.  
The radio crackled and fizzed harshly and Jim squinted as a dim headache began to throb behind his eyes. He twisted at the dials, searching for something that wasn't just white noise. But every station he turned to was either a standby tone or static.

Looking at the old machine, Jim frowned. Maybe the radio tower had been hit during the raids. But hadn't the radio tower contacted him only yesterday to let them know that their star spokesperson, Harry Giles was missing?

Odd.

Jim was just about to give up when the crackling static began to take on form.  
There was silence. Deathly silence. But on a radio station?

"_Good evening to you all, the good people of Gotham City and welcome to tonight's show."_

Letting out a breath, Jim sat back in his chair. Maybe he _had_ been working too much.

"_As you may have already realised, I now command absolute control of Gotham City's radio frequencies."_

"What?"

Jim sat back up in his chair, a drop of the hot coffee spilling out onto his desk.  
Reaching for the buttons, he frantically turned the dials back and forward, but the voice was right. Every frequency boasted the same cool, unfamiliar voice. He stood up, motioning to the remaining officers in the building.

"Roy! Francie! Get here! I think we've got some joker messing with the radio frequencies!"

The two officers scuttled through the cubicles, opening the glass door almost lazily. They'd been having punks messing around and taking advantage in all the chaos. What did another one matter?

"_Of course, this is a difficult time for Gotham. I've been hearing _all_ about the incidents on the islands and well, believe you me, I've seen my fair share of the carnage that got left behind."_

The officers all looked at each other. Was this some sort of prank?

"_But I would like to bring something to your attention. For months now, I've been hearing...rumours. Whisperings. About the Batman. Of course, you all know who it is I'm speaking of. It's _because_ of the Batman that most of you are still here, instead of- of babbling away like lost little souls in the back of some abandoned asylum."_

The eerie voice continued, holding the officers in complete and total silence.

"_Now....I have been wanting to meet this particular individual for quite some time now. Unfortunately, I've heard that your vigilante crusader is a little....shy, shall we say? So, I would like to take this opportunity to grab your attention."_

For a moment, the line went deathly silent. The officers all leant forwards unconsciously towards the radio, anxious to hear the voice on the other end.

"_You may all remember a particular....friend of mine. A rather famous Gotham speaker. He's been out of action for quite some time now. But I'm sure he won't me using his frequency, will you Harry?"_

"_Somebody! Please! Get me out of here!-"_

"_Now now, Harry. Let's not ruin it for the nice people, shall we?"_

Jim felt himself going stiff. The missing radio host!  
He wasn't dead. He had been taken by this nut!  
Nudging Roy in the side with his elbow, he whispered beside him. He couldn't afford to miss this message!

"Get Harvey Bullock and Maggie Sawyer on the phone. Have the MCU do a trace of all frequencies – find out where that signals coming from. Have the units do a sweep of the radio station and all possible transmission area's"

"_As you can hear, Mr. Giles is quite well.....for the moment. My demands are simple. The Archym Mental Asylum has recently wrongly imprisoned a friend of mine. If I am not granted full, guarded access to all area's of the facility within the next hour, with full police protection, I'm afraid that Mr. Giles won't be gracing us on the radio again any time soon."_

Jim's head swung back. Roy was already on the phone, talking in hushed toned over the frequency. He turned to Francie, noting down a number on a piece of paper.

"I need someone on the phone with Intelligence in the next ten minutes. Do a full search on any patients at the asylum – search for anything unusual in the admittance cases. Send a message to Jerry Hennelly and get a SWAT team set up and based at the hospital. Here's his number, let him know that it's me who's asking!"

"_Obviously, I don't want to be reunited with my friend, only to be taken down by the Gotham Quick Response Unit. So, as collateral, I _won't _be taking Mr. Giles with me. When my demands are met, he'll be returned safely and securely to the GPD at Gladstone Park exactly two hours after I have __what I want. If there are any attempts on either mine or my associates lives whilst at the hospital, I will give the order to have taken off the air - for good."_

Rising from his chair as quickly as he could, Jim ran towards the police radio. He hoped to God the frequency would be freed up long enough to get the message through!

"_Oh, and uh, if the mysterious _Batman_ is listening in – more's the pity. I'm afraid I can't be seen doing business with you quite yet. But be warned. If he _does _indeed slink out from underneath his...rock or wherever he goes, and makes any attempt to stop me, then Harry Giles _will_ die. Best of luck, officers. I know _I'd _need it."_

The line cut dead. Only the continued buzz of the static remained.  
Turning back to the police radio, Jim jabbed at the buttons frantically. After a few seconds, the static stopped dead. Picking up the receiver, Jim transferred to all frequencies, his hair standing on end.

"All units, I repeat, _all units!_ We have a kidnapping on one Harry Giles! Suspect is unknown! Voice recognition _has _been established! Repeat. Voice recognition _has _been established! All units report to base for briefing! Drop all you're doing! Homicide division has been notified!This is now priority number one! Repeat! _Priority number one_!"

**

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**Author's Note's : Eh, pretty action-packed for a second chapter, right? Or technically, would this be the first one and the second be the prologue? Well, whatever. Either way, I'm pretty happy with how this is shaping up. I had to do a TON of research on Police exercises and different units (which isn't very good of me, seeing as my Uncle is a cop).**

**But ooh, now we know what happened to the presenter guy, right? Right? See if somebody can guess what I'm up to with this one.**

**Batman : No. With The Joker, it's never that simple!**

**He's on the right track, folks!**


	3. Under The Gates of Archym Asylum

**Worst Fear - a Joker Story**

**Meeoko**

**Summary : Ever wondered what happened to The Joker before he came to Gotham City? Sometimes, your fears can catch up with you. Short one-shot fic. Rated M for violence, gore and language.**

**Author's Note's : Merry Christmas and a happy New Year, dear readers! May you never have to withstand the horrors I'm going to depict in this fic (that's my way of wishing you the all the best)! Obviously, this isn't the most Christmassy thing to read - but I hope you enjoy it regardless.**

**EDIT : Okay, sorry I'm posting this again guys, but I needed to correct something. I had a slight problem with Copy and Paste, so I ended up repeating an entire paragaph! My bad! And thank you to ktowngirl for pointing it out.**

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* * *

**

"Well, well, well. Gotham City's finest – fleeing like little rabbits over a radio presenter. Tripping over each other like babes in the woods. "

The Joker smiled, showing a row of primal teeth. Looking down into the panicked streets below through the dip in the blinds, he fingered the lines of the sash blinds, following the pathways of the people below.

"Huh, _you_ don't know where your going." he sang, pointing to people below "Or you. Or you. Oh, andthatguy there! He just hasn't got a _clue_!"

The people looked wary.

Some of them were hurrying along the streets at a jog, with their heads down. But it was the traffic that suffered the most. The whole of Gotham Central was backed up for miles.  
The frequencies were apparently on the same wavelength as the traffic lights and since his little 'broadcast', The Joker had been smiling to himself, pleased with the havoc as the police cars tried to make their way through the sea of frozen cars.

Licking his lips, he burst into laughter, hopping on the spot in his excitement. Chips of plaster fell from the craggy ceiling as he laughed, bringing his foot into the table with such force that it hit into the wall.

"_Woohoo_! Look at them _go_!" he laughed. "Like rats! Scurrying like _little rats_!"

The boys stood around him in a circle, each donning his own clown mask. One of them was chuckling, the other clapping his hands together slowly, as if in applause.

"I think we've hit the jackpot, boys!" The Joker finally came to a standstill, looking again out of the window. "One _tiny_ little threat and radio signal and we've got half the city going crazy! Haha! Run rabbit, run rabbit, run run _run_!"

The faceless men continued to stand where they were.  
Newcomer was fiddling with the cuff of his jumper, slowly unravelling it. His emotionless mask rose to look at him as his muffled, stuttering speech came from behind it.

"Uh, boss? I-I don't get it."

Snapping the blind closed over the dirty glass, The Joker turned to face his men. He sighed and rolled his eyes, but it was with a smile. How naïve and lost these boys were!  
He had achieved his goal – or at least, half of it. Even their whiny, childish questions couldn't dampen his spirits now!

"And exactly _what_ don't you understand, Newcomer?" The Joker smiled, slowly edging closer to the boy.

"Uh, I, it's just-"

"He doesn't get why we're goin' to the hospital, sir. We don't wanna go back to the White Rooms."

The Joker looked over at the bulkier one who had interrupted and his eyes immediately shot down to the floor. He toed at the filth in the carpet, anxious for a reply from their guardian angel.

It wouldn't do to anger an angel. No it would not.

Blowing a puff of air out through his nose, The Joker made a popping sound in his mouth. If he had to explain it to his boys one more time, he would.  
He at least owed them that! After all, in less than three hours, each and every one of them would be expendable.

But, every army had its veterans. The building blocks that started it all.

"We are going to the hospital, boys....because there's something there that I need to, uh, take care of."

"But boss." the large one shivered. "The _Shadow Men_."

Trying again, The Joker chewed at his mouth, intent on keeping his patience. After all, what were most games without patience? Boring.

"We're not...._going_ to see the Shadow Men." The Joker sighed, waving his hands in the air before him. "We're not _going_ to the White Rooms. No boys. We are going for something...._far _more important. We are ehem, we're _going_ to restore what you lost. What they took from you before the darkness that is _Gotham City_ has the chance to devour the rest of your wings."

The masked boys all leant forward a little closer as their guardian stood before them.  
He waved his hands in the air, triumphant as the lost boys all leant closer to their guardian angel.

"No boys! We go for the _army_! At the hospital, boys - there are angels! Waiting for you! Waiting for their saviours! And they want their goddamn wings back!"

With grinning faces and tittering laughter, the boys began to rub their hands together in excitement, though none said a word.  
One by one, they filtered out through the door, each looking as excited as children at Christmas.

"Pfft! _Angels_!." he murmured to himself. "I'll show y'a some goddamn angels when I blow your head off. Goddamn kids. Just waiting for an excuse like the rest of 'em..."

Bringing his own clown mask towards his face, he fastened the straps in pace and grabbed his coat.

"Sit tight, Harry. We'll be back for ya' when the time comes."

Reaching for the door handle, The Joker took one last look at the CD placed on the windowsill and ran his fingers over the cool surface, nodding to himself.

Yes, Harry was going to be perfectly convincing. Harry was going to play his part _just_ fine.

* * *

The Gotham Police Department was abuzz with activity. Men and women rushed backwards and forwards, mobile phones, walkie talkies and slips of paper in their hands. There was a constant buzz of ringing as phones continued to ring off the hook.

And Jim Gordon was beginning to feel the pressure. Lucky for Jim, he worked well under pressure.

"New traces have come back empty, Gordon. They're scouring the tower and all possible satellite transmitters within the area for bugs as we speak. Voice analysis for Giles checked out with some of the recordings taken from the radio tower – it's no bluff, Gordon. They've got him in there."

Gordon took the sheet from the man's hands and was immediately stopped by someone else.

"MCU's come back with nothing, Gordon. They're cross-referencing the voice over with any possible kidnapping suspects within the area and we have SWAT teams ready to deploy."

"Good." Gordon rubbed at his moustache "How many?"

"One squadron positioned on the roof, another positioned along the entrance and throughout the drive. We have four volunteers willing to act as escorts throughout the premises, but they're requesting to bring weapons into the facility with them."

"Give them what they want. We have no idea who this man is, or what he's capable of. I don't want any risks. And tell Bullock that I'm his next volunteer! I don't want anyone to let this guy slip through their fingers! But tell your men that under pain of death, they are _not_ to engage fire unless the suspect does so first. I mean it, McCawl!"

"Yes, sir!"

Jesus! Gordon almost fell down into his seat, wiping away the sweat from his brow.  
The clamour of officers hustling together had really increased the temperature. For possibly the seventh time in a single minute, Jim looked at the clock. Twenty minutes.

Rising from his chair with heavy limbs, Jim got to action. Shoving the glass doors aside, he headed for the roof. Nobody stopped him with calls or paperwork this time.

They knew where he was going.

The damp chill of the emergency stairs immediately soothed Jim and he took two stairs at a time, striding closer towards the roof. He didn't have time to wait around for him, this time.  
He must have heard the broadcast himself! The whole of Gotham had heard it!

Bursting through the emergency door, Jim didn't even have the time to take in a breath of cool air. Moving towards the beacon in three swift steps, Jim clicked down the lever. Light exploded on top of the roof as the beacon shone upwards, the dark bat in the centre of the clouds looking down on him like a waiting hunter.

The man had demanded that Batman didn't show his face tonight. But Jim knew him better than that. Even if he didn't have the time to wait around – the Batman would come. There was nothing he could do to stop it, but merely prepare for it.

The Batman wasn't confined by the walls of the law, but he wouldn't intentionally risk someone's life.

The slam of the fire door brought his attention back to the matter at hand. In the doorway stood Romerez, beckoning for him to move, gun in hand.

"We gotta go, Gordon. Fifteen minutes left until the exchange takes place."

With a nod, Jim began to walk back towards the fire door. Taking one last glance behind him at the beacon, Jim half expected to see the Batman already standing there, waiting and ready. But he wasn't.  
How could he be?

They headed down the stairs, taking two at a time. Romerez thrust a set of car keys into his hands as they left for the exit.

"You really think it's a good idea to volunteer, Gordon?" she puffed "We should let MCU handle this."

Clicking the key into place, Jim jumped into the front seat and clicked on his seat belt. Romerez jumped in beside him.

"Don't tell me how to do my job, kid. I've been doing this for twenty years."

Turning the key in the ignition, Jim pushed the engine into life. Apologetically, Romerez changed the subject.

"Traffic's been diverted and the path to the hospital has been cleared. All surrounding civilian homes have been evacuated and they're working on moving some of the senior, long-term patients. All transport to and from the hospital is under rota – nobody can pass through without a visual identification until the time comes."

"Good work."

Jim felt the familiar mixture of terror and anticipation rising in his stomach. But he pushed it back as he turned on the siren above his car and put his foot down.

He had to keep in control. A man's life was on the line!

"Now let's go get this bastard."

But then again, it seemed like someone's life was_ always_ on the line. This_ was _Gotham City, after all.

* * *

The rumbling of the truck kept perfectly in time with the beat of his heart. It was just like his body was dancing with the truck.

Newcomer didn't like being inside the truck very much. It was too dark.

No matter where he looked, there seemed to be eyes and faces at every darkened corner, which would leap back into their hiding places if they caught him looking. The little voice chirped on and on in his ears, until they began to pester him.

The mask was hot. Very hot. He didn't like the mask very much But the boss always said that it was better to keep your face than lose it. Or was it the other way around?

Newcomer fingered at the trigger of the battle rifle in his hands. The safety was on, of course. He'd double checked and then triple checked. If he did something wrong and the gun went off in the truck, the boss was be very unhappy.

It felt good to have something familiar back in his hands.  
He had learnt to use a gun from a very young age. Newcomer didn't know who had taught him, how old he had been or when. It was just something that he always....knew.  
Even before the emptiness of the White Room, Newcomer had held on to that memory. The one thing he remembered. Guns.

Newcomer liked guns.

He could see the boss, sitting at the very back of the van in the corner. He hadn't spoken a word since they'd left the apartment. The boss didn't like to talk much when he wore his mask.

He didn't seem to be enjoying his own rifle as much as Newcomer did. It hung limp in his hand, the safety off. The boss never put the safety on. Said it was like standing in front of a herd of rhino's and holding the tips of their horns to your chest and ordering them to charge.

It was because he was careful. The boss always knew what to do.

And now, he was helping them.  
They were going to go back to the White Rooms and take back the fallen angels that the Batman tore down. And then they were going to join together and fly away. That's what the boss said. He said that he'd help find their wings.

The thought of the Batman sent a chill along Newcomer's spine. It was sick. It was wrong. What kind of a man would tear away an angels wings? Was he sad because he couldn't fly himself?

The truck jolted as they passed over bumpy ground.  
Something crunched beneath the wheels and they slowed their pace. Newcomer couldn't see outside the truck, but he could picture it. If you could picture silence.  
That's what he expected. The air just seemed......quiet.

The emotionless face of the clown rose from the floor and Newcomer snapped into attention. The boss looked at the rifle in his hand, rummaging through his pocket as he did so. Shiny steel glistened in the darkness as he turned the little knife over in his hands, observing the surface of the metal as delicately as if it were a precious gem.

He liked knives too. The boss had lots of knives. _Lots_ of knives.

They slowed even further.  
The truck tilted at a slight angle as they drove across the bumpy gravel towards the prison. The prison where they kept all the stolen angels. They continued to slow as gradually, the truck came to a halt.

For a moment, all was still.

Newcomer could picture the silence outside. The bad people who guarded the gates and barred the way to the angels. They were going to try and stop them!  
A sigh filled the truck and echoed off its walls. Rising to his feet, the boss tucked the small knife back into his pocket, turning to look at them through his mask.

"Safeties off now, boys. We don't want anybody getting themselves hurt now, do we?"

A chorus of "No boss." echoed inside the truck.

Newcomer clicked the safety off as carefully as he could. He didn't like the safety. It was like he was caging the bullet. Like a bird.

Bending down towards the door of the truck, the boss curled his fingers around the edge and lifted ever so slightly, so that a tiny ray of light shone inside the truck.  
Newcomer could feel himself getting excited. Not the Father Christmas kind of excited, but the Godfather 2 kind of excited. He had seen it while passing a TV store once. He had stood there for over three hours outside the window, in the cold and the rain, with his eyes glued to the movie.

He'd gotten in big trouble with the boss for that one.

Newcomer laughed to himself once, finger already brushing the trigger of the battle rifle.

"Hehe. Say hello to my little friend."

After readjusting his mask a final time, the boss pulled the doorway upwards to see the dark of the growing night outside. The light hadn't been coming from the sun, after all. Just lots of bright red lights.

"Come on boys." the boss turned to them before jumping out of the truck. "The devil's waiting."

* * *

It was the silence that everybody hated. The calm before the storm.

Jim had been waiting at the hospital for barely five minutes when he got a radio call saying that the suspects had just passed through the first barrier. They were in a food delivery truck and it appeared that the driver was wearing a clown mask.

Last minute orders were given as the GPD scrambled to get into position.

Jim stood alongside Commissioner Akins and the four volunteers, ready and waiting in front of the big double gates directly overlooking the asylum. All were armed and decked in both protective vests and riot gear. All apart from Jim.

Of course he was armed. But Jim had never been one to wear body armour. It restricted his movement and he wasn't getting any younger. He needed all of the flexibility he could get.  
The Commissioner had advised against it strongly, but now, there was no more time left.

Nobody had any idea what they were dealing with. They didn't know _who _they were dealing with! A voice over the radio was hardly anything to go by. Especially since they couldn't match the voice to any known operating kidnappers within the area. For all they knew, they could be dealing with something far more difficult than they had anticipated.

But Jim had never been one to make blatant mistakes.

The Direct Assault Team were all positioned atop the roof and in direct sight of the main windows, armed with precision sniper rifles, just in case. The entire asylum had been evacuated twenty minutes earlier of all members of staff, although all of the patients remained.  
There were several serious cases within the building that had also been evacuated to a different facility – although Jim had been skeptical about this. If they had moved the wrong person and this terrorist didn't get what he wanted.....well, Jim didn't like to think about it.

The Commissioner was standing ready, almost eager to begin negotiations beside him. Jim could feel the tension emanating from the man and in all honesty – he didn't envy him.  
Sure, Jim might have been in charge of the official movements of the GPD, but the Commissioner's word was law and his will iron.

There was deathly silence.

Only the singular crackle of radio's could be heard as every man and woman present strained their ears to pick up the slowly nearing sound of tyre tracks. The almost silent whisper of a voice over the radio buzzed at Jim's breast pocket.

"Visual has been established. He's coming."

Jim held his breath as the Gotham Police Department watched the nearing vehicle in the distance as it travelled up the path towards the asylum. They were driving slowly, carefully. It was unusual in a kidnapping, but Jim didn't have time to think about specifics as finally, the food truck pulled up alongside the wrought iron gates and came to a halt.

The wind changed direction.

Jim let out the breath inside him and bit down on his lip. Why had he volunteered for this? He should have called Barbra first! He knew he should have!

The harsh squealing sound of rolling metal echoed across the empty space as the metal shutter of the truck was pulled upwards, quickly followed by the sharp sound of almost thirty safety switches being flicked off. Jim tensed.

Somebody stepped out.  
Jim clamped his teeth together to maintain himself as a man in a purple suit and clown mask jumped down onto the floor. He held a battle rifle in his hands, barely even glancing at them before several more men jumped down from the truck. Jim counted four, five in total. They each held rifles and machine guns.

A dull chill flew down Jim's spine and settled in his boots. Of course he had expected them to bring guns. But there was something strange about the way they moved. Something....animal. Primitive. Like they were drunk. Maybe they _were_.

The figures looked around for a moment, seemingly taking their time.  
There seemed to be one who led the rest, though Jim couldn't make out their faces behind the masks. The one with the purple suit. Jim desperately wanted to speak to the man, but knew that he was not to under any circumstances. He couldn't compromise his position. This was Commission Akins job now.

But still, Jim was fixated on the strange masked men.

Raising a hand, the lead figure beckoned the other four forward towards them. The four armed men behind Jim and Commissioner Akins tensed, the sound of body armour clinking in the chill of the wind.

All of a sudden, Jim seemed to have a sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach. A gut feeling, he called it. Something wasn't right. He could feel it.

And at that moment, Jim wished more than ever that he had not volunteered.

* * *

"Ahh...you must be...the Commissioner! Thanks for the welcoming party, but you really didn't need to go all out."

Commissioner Akin's held firm.

Beside him, there were four armed cops all decked in riot gear and another, shorter man at his side. The Joker was surprised to see that this man didn't wear any protection, like the rest.  
It stumped him, although he had to say – he was impressed. For a moment, he looked at the man, finding it difficult to decide whether or not to respect him, or laugh at his stupidity.

The Commissioner coughed loudly, drawing his attention. Inside his mask, The Joker rolled his eyes and let out an aggravated breath. Obviously, Commissioner Akins was not a man to take things lightly. He stood in front of the large iron gates, decked in a bullet-proof vest and a gun at his hip.

Pfft! Stupid, _stupid_ man. Sure, the vests might stop bullets, but it would be so incredibly easy to just slip in a blade between the joints and sever the tendons. So...._so_ easy.

"Where's Giles?"

The Joker looked over towards Commissioner Akin's stern face and sighed inside his mask. Surely these people weren't _that _stupid? He rubbed at the back of his head with his free hand, shaking it as he did so.

"Obviously, Commissioner, I was unclear in my...negotiations. Or have you just been sitting behind that nice big desk so long that you tend to forget things when you have to come back down to..._our _level?"

The side of Akin's face twitched, but he remained silent. The Joker continued.

"As I already made quite clear..... will remain with _me_ until my demands are met. You'll get him back safe and sound when I have what I want."

He licked his lips inside the stuffy mask, holding up a finger.

"_Buuut_....one false move, Commissioner. One _single_ shot on myself or my friends here, and Harry Giles will die. You can make certain of that. I don't speak lightly, Commissioner. I'm a man of my word."

Commissioner Akins nodded, though his face remained both grim and determined. One of the men beside him moved to open the gates and they squealed harshly in protest.

"These men have been assigned to escort you into the building." Akins scowled, baring down at them with his superior height. "You will have unrestricted access to the premises to find who you are looking for. You will have exactly one hour to vacate the premises, or my men have authority to take you down. You got that, _clown boy_?"

Unable to help himself, The Joker laughed through his nose.

The guards at either side of the commission flinched slightly at the sudden movement, pulling their guns higher. Holding up a hand, The Joker looked up at the burly commissioner through the itchy eyeholes of his mask. He did _not_ look amused.

"I'm sorry," The Joker snorted "I'm sorry – _what?_ You'll have to forgive me, Commissioner. I'm not laughing at you. Well...okay, I am. You seem the thing is....you're a hands-on man. I can see that. But uh, I'm afraid that all those years behind that big comfy desk has made you....uh, how can I put this?"

He chewed the inside of his mouth as he thought for the answer.

"Soft. Human. _Vulnerable_."

Commissioner Akins barely made a move, apart from the slight dip of his eyelids as he took in The Joker's words. It was enough. All he needed to confirm his suspicions.

"And well," he continued. "I'm afraid that I can't really take your, uh....._threat _seriously. Nothing personal, of course, Commissioner. I just have a bit of a....talent....for spotting the liars, shall we say?"

Sweeping his free hand towards the un-armoured cop with the moustache, The Joker couldn't help but let another puff of laughter escape his lips.

"I mean, this guy's the only one of you who seems ta' have any balls! He doesn't know who I am. He doesn't know what I might do to him if I got the chance. But _he_......he still has the stones to stand here _without_ all'a that police dress-up crap your wearin'! So please, Commissioner....it's best not to lie to me."

For a moment, Commissioner Akins shoulders went stiff and he twitched.

The man beside him seemed unaffected, though the angle of his shoulders told The Joker that he was as tightly wound as a spring. Commissioner Akins seemed to tremble all over. A vein in his head had popped out and he was clenching his jaw. For a moment, The Joker thought that he might actually move to attack him.

He hoped so. Oh _God_, did he hope so!

But barely a moment later, the commissioner recovered himself, cleverly turning the motion into the sweep of a hand. He rose a finger to point directly at The Joker, who tilted his head, already growing bored with the charade.

"You will get in." Akins spoke, sounding rigid and furious. "You will get what you need. You will get out. But if there is _any _funny business – _anything _I don't like the look of – I won't hesitate to shoot you in the face myself!"

Turning around and brusquely striding through the gates, Commissioner Akins began to clear the way. For a moment, The Joker watched after him.  
He decided then and there that some day, Commissioner Akins was going to die.

Why would Gotham need a police department run by a liar? That just wasn't good politics.

Motioning for his 'angels' to move up behind him, The Joker shrugged to himself, fingering the trigger of the battle rifle and followed after the Commissioner.

"Did it just get colder out here? Geez, ya kidnap _one _person and you get a death threat on your head."

* * *

The large double doors loomed ahead as they walked. The greying metal above the door frame intertwined, spelling out the name of the asylum. The main reception was deathly silent – not a soul was around and it made Jim shiver.

The men walked behind him, with the Commissioner at the head of the party. The four other armed volunteers flanked the terrorists, carefully watching their every move, though Jim didn't dare look back at them. There was something in the way that they held themselves that spooked him. Like the walking dead.

They looked as if _they_ were the ones who belonged in the asylum.

And there was something uneasy in the pit of Jim's stomach. It was the way that the leader, the man in the purple suit, had looked at him as he had spoken. As he had spoken, there had been a tone in his voice that Jim hadn't expected. It had sounded a little like respect. Or was it empathy?

But this had only proven to make Jim feel even more uncomfortable.

He could feel the man's eyes boring into the back of his head and he fought the urge to turn around. The words that he had spoken to Commissioner Akins echoed around inside his head like a warning, or a promise.

"_Soft. Human. Vulnerable."_

Only now, it was Jim who felt particularly vulnerable.

They came to a halt in front of the main reception. Commissioner Akins turned to face the masked men, an incredulous look of disgust and anger on his face.  
Jim knew that look. It was the same look that the commissioner used when he knew that he had been caught out – and that there was nothing he could do about it.

"Remember, clown." he snarled, again raising his finger to point at the masked leader. "One hour. No more. No less. And we expect to have Giles returned to us, as you agreed. If I find that you've played us – I will come and find you. _Personally._"

There as a momentary pause.

The Commissioner's finger stayed poised, pointing accusingly at the masked terrorists. Unexpectedly, the masked man took a low bow, theatrically waving his gun behind him as a reminder. The armoured volunteers tensed behind him, ready to strike if need be. But as he bowed low, the eyes behind the mask never left the Commissioner's face.

"As you wish...._Commissioner._"

Grunting angrily, Commissioner Akins stormed back the way he came, throwing an arm back behind him as he went.

"Gordon – no mistakes."

Nodding only to himself, Gordon watched as the burly man pushed away the glass doors angrily and took his position in the courtyard. The men positioned outside stood silently in watching through the glass, obscured by riot masks. Watching. Waiting.

"_Ehem_."

The sound brought Jim back from his thoughts and immediately, the seriousness on his face returned. The masked leader stood waiting before him, having arisen from his bow. The other masked men beside him stood, their heads darting around the large reception. Almost as if they were scared.

Motioning with his head, Jim began to lead the way into the facility.

As agreed, the building had been evacuated of all staff, though the patients remained. It was eerily quiet. The footsteps of the masked men sounded behind him, a silent remainder of the position that he was in. Jim was in no position to lead. Here, he was simply a pawn.

Pushing through another set of double doors and up a flight of stairs, they entered a long corridor. Doors stood side by side along each side of the hallway, not a single bar of light filtering in or out. Jim clenched his jaw. Here. This was where the hunt would begin.

And there were another two floors above filled with patients. Who knew how long it would take to locate the man that the terrorist was looking for?

Standing to the side, Jim let the lead man through. He dashed up to each individual window like a child opening their presents at Christmas, peeking through the small windows at those inside. Each door had a chart slotted into the front with the patients details on and he picked one up, studying it carefully.

He muttered to himself as he read, seemingly excited. Jim thought this was a little strange. Didn't he _know _he person he was looking for? Why would he need to read the charts?

"Okay...." he mumbled. "Paranoid tendencies, self-loathing, hallucinations, bulimia...."

He shook his head vigorously, immediately putting the chart back down.

"No. No. Don't want any whiny little kids....no, _no_."

Jim remained vigilant as he moved to the next door on the far side, again picking up the chart. The other four masked men moved past Jim, seeming almost edgy. Their guns shook as they held them and their eyes kept to the floor, as though they were terrified that they might see something inside the cells that they didn't like.

"Riiiight." the man mumbled, tutting to himself. "Deluded fantasies, unable to retain information....introverted depressive. No, no, no.

Shaking his head almost angrily, he thrust the chart back into its place, immediately moving towards the next door. His masked men followed, though each of them trembled like small children.  
Jim watched warily, exchanging glances with one of the men at his side, who simply shook his head in disbelief. Nobody knew what was happening.

"M'kay...." the leader continued to mumble, after picking up yet another chart. "Displays of aggression, right....severe hallucinations...hmm, manic depressive? O_oh_! Abused as a child! He'll do nicely!"

Flicking a finger towards the cell, the man turned to face Jim.

"You uh, mind if I do?"

Jim swallowed a lump in his throat, looking carefully over towards the cell door.

"Is that the man you're looking for?"

The clown mask tilted to the side backwards and forth. Jim could almost imagine the man behind it trying to look innocently back at him. He shrugged, waving the gun in his hand as he did so.

"In a matter of words....yes."

Jim frowned. What was he up to?  
He placed a hand on his waist, fingering the access card that lay there. He had been given it personally by the founder of the asylum, to access the areas he needed. But now, he wasn't so sure.

"What are you getting at?" Jim asked, trying to sound as un-threatening as possible.

The man shrugged again, a sigh escaping from the brim of the mask. The eyes inside rolled skywards.

"I believe we had an agreement didn't we, officer?" he drawled, sounding bored. "Now, either you can be a nice little cop and give me what I ask for, or uh....I could have ' head taken off and sent to his family in the mail."

The voice was not aggressive in the slightest. Simply mocking. Like he was _enjoying _what he said.

"Would you like that, Officer?" he continued "To be held personally responsible for an innocent man's death? I know _I _wouldn't mind, but I'm not sure what they do to cops who..._compromise_ things. And I wouldn't want you to get into any_ trouble_ now, would I?"

For a moment, Jim stared at the man, desperately trying to see what might be behind the mask. But it was about as futile as trying to figure out what was behind the Batman's mask. Slowly, he moved towards the door, pulling the card from behind him as he did so.

The man looked down at him and Jim was sure he was smiling.

Timidly, Jim slotted the card into the reader alongside the door lock. A single buzzing sound echoed through the silent corridor and the lock came undone.

"Ya know," the eerie voice spoke beside him "I like you. You've got balls. Ya' don't see that in too many cops these days. What was your name? Gordon?"

Reaching out a hand towards the door handle, the man began to pull it open.

Jim could see a trembling, small figure outlined in the darkness, looking out at them like an animal caught in the headlights. Before the masked terrorist entered the room, he slapped a gloved hand on Jim's shoulder, making him freeze.

Leaning in close so that Jim could see that whites of his eyes, the man whispered in his ear.

"Ya' know, I think I'm going to_ like_ working with you, Gordon."

* * *

**Autho's Note's : Has anybody grasped what The Joker is doing yet? Or what he's really going to do about Harry Giles?**

Ten points to anyone who can guess! It takes a little reading between the lines, but you'll get it.


	4. Saving Fallen Angels

**Worst Fear - a Joker Story**

**Meeoko**

**Summary : Ever wondered what happened to The Joker before he came to Gotham City? Sometimes, your fears can catch up with you. Short one-shot fic. Rated M for violence, gore and language.**

**Author's Note's : Hey guys. I'd like to ask you to please, please review if you've been reading. I haven't gotten many so far and I'd like to know if I'm doing something wrong (or perhaps, there just aren't as many Joker fans out there as I thought).  
I'm really enjoying writing this fic, but I'd like to know whether or not you guys are actually enjoying reading it.**

* * *

_He couldn't breathe. _

_The straps were digging in too tight around his midriff. They were cutting off his circulation, although for almost three hours - he did nothing. What else_ could_ he do? He was stuck inside the dark little room like a caged animal!_

_They all said that something was wrong with him. That he was ill......._damaged. _But he felt fine._

_Or he_ had _felt fine, until he had been thrown into this god forsaken hell hole!_

_He struggled against the jacket, thrashing and writhing, desperate to free himself of the bonds. All day, he had managed to sit in silence_ - _completely still. Untroubled.  
__But the drugs were beginning to wear off now. Their hold on him was beginning to break._

_The shadows danced at the corners of the room, but he ignored it.  
His mouth was dry and rough and he licked at his lips, desperate to rid himself of the constant irritation. _

_Ever since he'd gotten these damn scars, nothing had been the same!_

_Sweat trickled down his forehead as he struggled.  
__Arching onto his back, he squirmed and thrust, waiting helplessly for the material to give way. It never did, but one day.....one day it would. And then he would make his way back. _

_He would find them - and he would take their lives away, as they had taken his._

_He rose to his feet, panting.  
__The heat radiated inside the straight jacket, making him pant like an animal. God, it was so hot! He couldn't breathe in the damn thing!_

_Growling in frustration, he ran at the walls, uselessly pounding his body against them in the hope of dislodging the jacket. __On and on it went in the darkness of the stuffy little room until his legs gave way and he buckled to the floor in a heap of exhaustion._

_He panted, trying to regain his breath and cool himself._

"_No. No. No. No_. No!"

_Laying against the floor, he tried to catch his breath. _

_He couldn't stand it any more! He wanted out!  
It was too small! Too hot!  
And they wouldn't leave him alone! They were always poking and prodding and demanding answers!_

_And the walls - they kept getting smaller! _

_Every time he returned to the dark, soulless little room, thrown onto his back and strapped down into the bed - the walls would close in on him just a little bit more. He couldn't remember! He couldn't remember the sun!_

_Taking in a deep, shaking breath, he bit down hard on his lip as he felt his eyes prick. _

_No! What the hell was he doing? Pitiful, weak little tears? No! He wouldn't! No!_ NO!

_His breathing became quick and short. __It was too hot. He couldn't see! He couldn't get free!  
__Shuffling backwards towards the bed in the corner of the room, he knelt in front of it, bringing his head down on the metal frame again and again,willing himself to black out._

"_No. No. No. No! No!_ NO!"

_A scream built up in his throat as he slammed his forehead against the metal as hard as he could. __He bit down harder on his lip as the warm tears fell down his face until he tasted blood. _

_No! He wouldn't let himself become weak! He wouldn't!_

_The screams built higher and higher with every hit, tearing at his throat as the blood trickled down his chin. He wanted out! He wanted to get away! Why the hell wouldn't he just sleep!_

"_I can't!" he screamed into the metal "I can't! _I CAN'T!"

_The screams echoed out into the hallway, building and building with such an intensity that it roused the other patients, stirring noises and cries from the other rooms.  
__Soon they came.  
He had expected them to. They always did._

"_Calm down, kid." the voices echoed, anger in their tone. "Just calm down!"_

_He worked harder, slamming his forehead down into the corner of the bed frame, unable to stop himself from screaming. The edges of his vision began to blur and his head span. Yes! Yes! Let the darkness take him away! Let him sleep! Sleep forever!_

_Finally, he managed to push the tears back down inside himself, where they would never see the light of day._

"_No! No!" the screams bounced off the walls, echoing back to him as he writhed, willing for nothing but the darkness. "No!_ NO!"

"_Hey! Come on, kid!" the voices barked in his ear. "Cut the crap already, ya little freak!"_

_There was a blur of limbs as then in white coats scrambled to stop him. He screamed even louder when he was pulled back away from the bed frame. Away from his only salvation!  
__He kicked out, biting and spitting at the hands surrounding him. Faces and limbs blurred into one through is tears as they overpowered him. _

_Forcing him to the ground, they pressed his face into the floor, their fingernails digging into the back on his skull. __Still he kicked and screamed, desperate for something to connect._

"_I want out!" he screamed._ "I WANT OUT!!"

"_Shit! He's becoming too unmanageable." a voice from above barked, thrusting his face further into the padded floor. "We need to sedate him! Goddamnit! I'm tired of this shit!"_

_Nothing could stop him.  
__He screamed into the floor, writhing and lashing underneath their grip. He kicked out with one of his legs, catching the man short in the groin. He doubled over, falling away. __Using all of his left-over strength, he rolled over, lunging at the fallen man, teeth barred.  
__He bit into the flesh, tearing and biting down as hard as he could until the tangy taste of blood filled his mouth. _

_He could hear screaming. It took a moment to realise that it was no longer his own._

"_Shit! What the fuck's _wrong_ with this stupid kid? I need a sedative! NOW!"_

_A hand grabbed at his hair, pulling him back.  
__He tried to reach out with his hands, but fell onto his back as the straight jacket took its toll. __He could feel his strength ebbing away. And the heat! It was too much! He still couldn't breathe! _

_He needed the sun! He needed air!_

"_You're in trouble now, ya' little shit!"the voices spat, looming over him._

_A weight pressed down on top of him, pinning his shoulders to the ground as he writhed. Blood trickled down his chin as he began to scream once again. _

_This time, he could do nothing to stop himself as the angry tears spilled down his temples and into his hair. He fought the whole way, kicking and screaming underneath the weight of the man, looking up at the ceiling through blurred eyes._

"_Let me out!" he choked, feeling his heart hammering inside his head "Let me out!_ LET ME OUT!"

_Another came to place strong hands on his legs, pinning him down.  
A third came, as if from nowhere, grabbing at his head and holding it down as he bit and snapped at the men in the white coats._

"_I'll kill you!" he gasped, feeling himself beginning to choke as the last of his energy began to ebb away. It was too much. He couldn't breathe any longer! "I'll find you, you sick bastards! _I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"

_Someone was holding down his head, forcing him to one side so that his neck lay exposed and open. __He struggled against the hold, writhing and calling like an animal as the tears fell fresh and hard down across his cheeks. _

"_No!" he screamed as the needle came closer. "No more! NO MORE!"_

_The sharp sting of the needle made him hiss as fingernails bit into the skin of his scalp. And all too quickly, he began to feel himself fading. __He fell backwards against the floor, his body no longer able to continue the onslaught.  
__His vision grew blurry at the edges and he stared up at the ceiling, unable to focus as his eyes began to droop. _

_He tried to speak, but his mouth was no longer his own. The words wouldn't form properly._

"_I...I......ah, fuck."_

_The holds against him slackened, finally letting him go. But he was spent. He had nothing more. No more energy to fight with. _

_Black spots danced across his vision as the faces of the doctors stared down at him. One was holding his neck, his face pasty white. Red liquid oozed from it and slowly, a smile came to his face. _

_First blood to him._

_He would show them. One day, he would show them all._

_Unable to fight against the hold of the drugs any longer, he let his eyes fall closed and fell deep into the depths of a disturbed and broken slumber._

* * *

It was just the same. The barred windows, the long cold corridors that smelt like prescription drugs and hopelessness - all of it.  
Everything was as he remembered. Archym Asylum.

How he hated it.

But he had a job to do and nobody was going to stop him now!  
The Batman hadn't shown up so far, and he guessed that he wouldn't at all, although secretly, he hoped that he would.

Perhaps then, the night wouldn't be entirely about 'business'.

The small, trembling man inside the cell stared up at him with watery, unfocused eyes. The Joker stared at him for a moment, slightly stunned. Had he looked like that once? That small? Pathetic?

_No._ He shook his head. He was never small. He was never pathetic.

But there was something that unnerved him about being back at the asylum. Something in the cowering man's eyes that reminded him all too much of himself.

And he didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit.

He didn't remember which had been his cell.  
He didn't remember how much time he had spent lying strapped to his bed, silently enduring as the beatings came.  
He didn't remember the various passing faces of nurses and doctors, constantly jabbing needles into him and bombarding him with questions to which they would receive no answer.

But he _did_ remember the darkness. He remembered the pain. And the silence.  
That was worst of them all.

Yes, he remembered that very well.

The leader of the cops - Godron, the Commissioner had called him - waited patiently behind him, his face a mask of stone and tension. But he ignored him for the moment.  
He would toy with him later.

Gathering himself together, The Joker strode fully into the padded room, looking down at the cowering man in the darkness. Unnerved by the sudden movement, he shifted farther backwards into the corner of his cell, his arms crossed over himself as a feeble barrier.

For the second time, The Joker wondered just how he might have looked to those that had come into his own cell all those years ago. Certainly not _this_ pathetic.

"Come with me, son." he spoke calmly into the darkness, trying to force the least threatening smile that he could manage.

The man beneath him trembled, looking up at him with terror. But there was a hesitant movement in his shoulders, and he relaxed ever so slightly.

"Hey." The Joker continued, using his nicest possible tone. "I'm not going hurt you. Come with me...and there'll be no more dark rooms. Come with me and you'll never have to sit here again."

It didn't take much to convince these people. He should know, after all.  
Most people would kill their own grandma just to get out of this place and see the daylight again!

The man relaxed again ever so slightly. Letting down his arms and legs, he leant forward a little towards the entrance, looking out at the armed men standing in the doorway. His gaze flickered over towards The Joker, who immediately wiped the smile away from his face.

It wouldn't do to give them too much. This man knew that he had one chance. And he would take it.

They always did.

"N-no more?" the man asked, his voice wavering as he pushed himself up onto his knees.

"No more." The Joker repeated, waving a hand towards the entrance.

He turned, walking back out of the room.  
He knew that the man would follow in time. No questions asked. Simple.

After all, the promise of freedom and daylight was the ultimate drive inside a place like Archym.

He didn't waste time.

Immediately, he went back towards the remaining rooms, picking up the various charts that say on the doors and flicking through the details of the patients inside. His men loitered beside him, each of them growing a little braver with every step they took.  
Newcomer's hands trembled as he held the rifle in his hands, though The Joker paid no mind to any of them. They were terrified of this place, but they would still listen to him. Even if they had to walk back into the belly of the beast itself.

Soon, he would have his army. His army of fallen angels.

"Oh, Gordon?" he chirped, turning back to the officer and motioning to the door in front of him. "If you please."

For a moment, the officer looked at him with steely resolve.  
There was defiance written all over his face, but The Joker knew that there was something hidden far deeper - fear. Not for himself, no. No. He was too brave for that. No. What he saw was fear.  
Fear for other people.

Yes, that was it.

It was obvious that the cop was fighting a battle of wills within himself. Whether to kill him, or give him what he wanted. But this wasn't a stupid man. This....Gordon wouldn't endanger anyone needlessly and The Joker knew it.

And _that_ would be his downfall.

"The agreement was for one patient" he spoke finally, his shoulders held firm and defensively.

The Joker noticed that the man inside the cell had slowly made his way out, coming to stand behind Gordon, though he began to edge away from the officers slowly. Instead, he was edging towards the men in the masks - his saviours. And soon-to-be brethren.

Like lambs to the slaughter.

The Joker chuckled to himself before turning back to Gordon.

"Uh, right. Well Gordon...I'm afraid that there's been a change of plan." he waved his hands at his sides. "And if you want Harry Giles to see the sun again, I suggest that you start taking note."

He smirked inside his mask when he saw Gordon's mouth twitch. He could tell that the man was thinking about shooting him in the head.

Bang. Dead. Finished.

But of course, Gordon was in no position to be making the decisions now. Now it was _his_ turn.

"This wasn't part of the plan." Gordon replied stiffly, his hand straying again to touch the gun at his hip.

Feeling laughter building up inside his stomach, The Joker doubled over, spluttering laughter from between closed lips. The sound of clinking metal echoed in the empty hallway as the armoured cops raised their guns in alarm, ready to strike. But they did nothing, awaiting order from Gordon himself.  
The tip of his rifle touched the floor momentarily as The Joker swayed in laughter, and he rose back up to look at the officer, though titters of laughter still made him shiver with excitement.  
Had these people been paying any attention _at all_?

"All respect, Gordon," he chuckled "but do I_ really_ look like a guy with a plan?"

The officer remained silent. The four armed men at his sides flanked the group of his own masked men, their eyes warily flickering back and forth between their targets and Gordon. They were waiting for orders. For something to happen. Anything.

Catching his breath, The Joker looked over towards the officers, unable to wipe the smile from his lips.

"Ahhh, thanks." he smirked, looking over at the officer. "I needed a good laugh. Things here are just too...proper. So serious."

Gordon remained silent.  
The Joker waited patiently for an answer. But when he received none, he let out a breath through his nose.

What was the point in toying with this cop if he wasn't going to be a good sport and play along?

Obviously, this cop was going to be just a little bit harder to bait. A challenge he willingly accepted.

Rolling his eyes skyward, The Joker finally grew tired of their little waiting game.  
He had never been a very patient man, even if it _was_ fun to mess with their little undisturbed heads. He still had a job to do, after all.

"Now uh, if you'd be so kind." he spoke, breaking the silence. "I have work to do and I'd really like to get it done before your uh....your _bat friend_ shows up. We wouldn't want to ruin things before the big unveiling now, would we?"

He half expected the cop to ask what he meant, but Gordon remained silent.

He smiled inside his mask. He definitely liked this Gordon.  
Perhaps he wouldn't kill him after all.

Silently, Gordon moved again towards the door, key card in hand. Slotting it into the electronic lock, he frowned to himself as the door swung open. Patting the officer on the back as he entered the room, The Joker couldn't help but smile to himself.

Some people were just too easy to manipulate!

And so it went.

They ranged from floor to floor, unlocking doors and slowly gathering an ever-growing trail of men and women in white hospital pyjamas. The selection process wasn't picky. He had more than enough to work with.  
All the while, his boys gained more confidence, no longer dominated by the memory of the White Rooms. He had shown them that rooms couldn't hold somebody for long - and they were relishing in it.

They were staring their fears in the face.

Eventually, Officer Gordon stopped talking altogether. This annoyed The Joker ever so slightly. He had enjoyed speaking to the cop.

What was the point in remaining silent? It wouldn't change anything. Gordon was just being a spoiled-sport!

No. This was what The Joker wanted and there wasn't a thing he could do to stop him! Not now. Not ever.

Time began to run short.  
The clock neared the deadline just as he finished selecting the rest of his army from the third and final floor.

Turning back towards Gordon and the parade of white-clad patients, The Joker was finally done.

"Now," he licked his lips inside the sweaty mask "If you gentleman would be so kind as to show us the way out, we'll be on our way."

* * *

Jim was out of his depth - they all were!

This crazed lunatic had waltzed in with the intention of releasing one man. And now, after only one hour, he had threatened and laughed his way into gathering an entire army! There were nearly thirty men and women among the disillusioned flock that seemed to follow the masked leader, all tittering to themselves quietly in excitement. Gordon eyed them warily, unsure of exactly what they were capable of.

Obviously, this terrorist had selected the most dangerous and unstable of the patients listed at Archym. Jim had been making note of each and every one that left the cell, intent on deciphering this man's motive.

How could he _possibly_ expect to control these people? There were almost thirty highly dangerous, unstable people all standing beside them in the hallway! Their eyes wandered, as if seeing something for the first time. Many of them did nothing. But their eyes always followed, silent and watchful. Suspicious. Scared.

It was beginning to unnerve the men.

They held back, rifles pointing towards the ground as if in defeat. Silently, they moved behind Jim ever so slightly, although he was the only one unprotected by the bulky riot gear. This wasn't what they'd signed up for. This was something entirely different and far more dangerous than any of them could have possibly anticipated!

Jim was almost certain that each of them were thinking of their families. He knew that he should have been as well, but he didn't. His only focus now was on the mission at hand. And the crazed, slightly drunken masked man that was slowly unravelling their entire operation.

But the utterly infuriating thing was that there was nothing he could do!

He couldn't refuse! Harry Giles' life was on the line! Jim couldn't pull out from the negotiations without costing a man his life, but if he continued to stand by, then thirty highly dangerous men and women would be let loose on Gotham - with their insane masked leader showing them the way!

Jim glared at the man, unafraid to let the venom flicker across his face. He was tired with doing things by the book! There was nothing '_by the book'_ about this at all!

"What are you going to do?" he demanded, staring hard at the blank masked eyes before him. "You can't expect to be able to take care of these people! They could turn on you in a second!"

Silence was his answer.

It was a little unexpected. So far, the masked man had taken no amount of pleasure in parading around, laughing and joking in some sort of sick charade. Utter silence was the last thing that Jim had expected.  
But he held firm, intent on receiving an answer. Now it was _his_ turn to start asking questions!

For almost a full five minutes, Jim and the masked man stared at each other, neither backing down from the other. Both the masked clowns and his own men stood waiting patiently, neither group daring to move. Only the released patients could be heard in the dim light of the hallway, occasionally coughing or quietly mumbling amongst each other.

In the back of his mind, Jim knew that time was running short. Soon, MCU and the SWAT team would come barging in, guns drawn and blazing. But he couldn't afford to think about it now. He couldn't allow this man to kidnap over thirty mentally ill, unstable people without at least giving him an explanation first!

Finally, the masked man broke the stare first, chuckling to himself. It seemed to be something that he did a lot.

"Ya' know," he spoke in his sing-song voice, edging slowly closer towards Jim "at first, I was in two minds whether or not I should kill you. But you've continued to impress me, officer. I like you, Gordon. You're one'a those guys who just doesn't....._worry_, ya know?"

Jim scowled, unafraid of the consequences.  
This psycho had pushed his luck just a little too far and it was beginning to get on his nerves.

"You won't kill me."

There was no laughing tone to the man's voice as he looked over at Jim coolly through the eye-holes of his mask. He seemed almost...determined.

"No. No, I won't."

Jim held firm, holding his chin a little higher than was necessary.  
He knew he was playing it close to the chest, but he had to try. Anything to get this man to cooperate. The eyes inside the mask moved around slowly, seemingly looking everywhere but at him.

"You know - I like that." he continued, moving ever closer. "That same ballsy, pushy attitude. Its refreshing to see in a guy in your position."

The man swayed slightly on his feet, as if considering whether or not to move.

"Because ya' see Jim.....you and I - we're different. Me....I'm a worrier. Always worrying about things. What goes where. Who gets to live and who dies. What needs to be blown up. Worry, worry, worry!.....That's all I seem to do!"

He was so close now that Jim could almost touch him just simply moving his head. He tensed his shoulders, trying to hold back from coughing as the smell of the man washed over him. It was the smell of stale sweat and something else.....paint?

It unnerved him and Jim braced himself against the silky words as they came tumbling out, his eyes never leaving the rifle held loosely in the man's hand.

"But you see, Gordon." the man continued, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at Jim "that's the great thing about guys like you. They don't have to think about what might happen and what might not. They don't have to be on the look-out all the time for things like....bombs and knives and gunfire..."

Suddenly, he looked away from Jim, nodding to someone behind him.

"...and death."

There was a flurry of movement.

The sound of sliding metal. Someone grunted and thumped to the floor.  
Jim shot around, immediately reaching for the gun at his belt. But he was pulled roughly backwards as a hand reached around to grab at his neck and something sharp was pressed into his neck.

He froze, his hand resting on the hilt of the gun. His men lay on the floor underneath him, crumpled, like broken puppets. Four clowns stood over them, one with a blood-stained knife in hand. The mask he wore had a beaming smile painted on the front of it.

"_Up, up, up!_" the lead clown tutted, pulling Jim into his chest as the arm around his throat tightened. "I wouldn't be so hasty, officer. We wouldn't want any more accidents now....would we?"

Taking his hand away from his gun, Jim struggled to take in a breath as the arm around his neck crushed down on his windpipe. The sharp, shimmering object jabbed at his throat, cutting into the flesh ever so slightly and making him take in a sharp breath through his nose. The hand holding the battle rifle reached into the gun holster at Jim's hip, tugging out the gun and immediately throwing it and the rifle to one of the waiting clowns standing beside them.

Jim could almost feel the heat radiating from underneath the man's mask as he held still, holding his hands out in front of him in surrender.

"Alright...." Jim managed, taking each word as carefully as he could when the blade dug a little deeper into his throat. "Alright....I'm unarmed."

A hand reached up from behind him and patted him on the head like a small child.

"Good..._good._ Balls _and _brains. It's just _so _hard to get people to cooperate these days."

Jim breathed slowly, drawing in as much air as he could with the arm wrapped around his throat and the blade at the base of his throat.

"You...you killed my men."

He felt the man's chin reposition itself behind him and he imagined the man tilting his head.

"Well, uh...yeah. Sorry about that."

Jim shifted himself against the man's hold, trying to get in a decent lungful of air. The edge of the knife swept lightly past his jaw, making a crinkling noise as it slid over his stubble.

"You....didn't....need to" Jim managed, looking down at the crumpled bodies of his men.

One of them stared upwards with blank eyes, his helmet dislodged and his neck broken.  
The numbness set in. The shock. The almost deafening silence that protected the mind from death.

It swept over Jim like a tidal wave as he looked down at the empty eyes of his colleague, staring up at him accusingly. Jim had killed him.

"No. I didn't." the voice chuckled in his ear. "But don't you see? I've done you a favour, officer. _Now_...you don't have to think. Now you don't have to keep looking out for the bombs or the knives or any'a that stuff! Not that you were anyway, but that's not the point! _Now_....you have to time to take care of _you_."

The blade nicked at Jim's throat as the clown spun him around to face him almost as suddenly as he had attacked.

Jim hissed as the knife pricked him, his balance thrown off by the sudden movement. He shut his eyes tightly, sucking in a breath through his teeth, but immediately froze when the man grabbed his head and he felt the cool tip of the small silver knife pressing into the corner of his mouth.

"And I suggest you start taking your safety just a _little _bit more more seriously. You're not exactly taking the best care of yourself today, are you Gordon? You got careless. And carelessness isn't a quality that tends to save lives. In fact....it's one of my _favourite_ qualities. Makes things more interesting."

Jim looked up. The mask looked down on him curiously, tilting its head back and forth, as if examining him. Jim shut his mouth, but froze as the tip of the steel poked at the corner.

He didn't try to struggle. Rule number one. Never antagonise the suspect. It would be complete suicide if he tried to move away - but even if he did, he still had four armed clowns and an entire hallway filled with unstable mental patients to deal with.

Slowly, almost uncertainly, the man brought a hand up to the base of his mask. Lifting it away from his head in a single movement, Jim could only stare in horror as it clattered to the icy floor and the monster behind the mask finally stared back at him.

His mouth! What had happened to his mouth?

Two long and mangled scars trailed along both sides of his mouth and along his cheeks, jutting out of his face so unnaturally that it looked like a burn. His intense, fearsome eyes bore down on him like death, hidden behind dark rings of black. His face was painted pale white and he looked down on Jim with a face so stony that it would even send shivers through Commissioner Akins boots!

Jim flinched, his immediate reaction to move away. But he hissed as he felt a small sting and the metallic taste of blood leaked into his mouth, immediately freezing him in place. A shiver ran through Jim's spine as he took in a deep breath. If he didn't stay calm, he would end up cutting himself to pieces!

"You see?" the man sighed, rolling his eyes. "_Still_ not taking care of yourself! If you're gonna go and squirm, then you're gonna lose your face, aren't you? You're not listening, Gordon."

The now un-masked man shook his head, dislodging curling green hair. Flecks of white face paint fell from his forehead as he frowned, his brow creasing into something terrible - something ugly.

"Well! Now that we're on a face-to-face basis," the man licked at his lips, nodding his head. "I should really introduce myself."

He looked down at Jim, pouting raising his eyebrows skywards. The expression looked as if he was only half-listening to a conversation and was saying something incredibly boring to fill the silence.

"The name's Joker. Just moved int'a town. Thought I'd set up shop once I meet the Batman. Maybe start my own little....enterprise. You can be a part of it, if you like. It'd be a shame to lose somebody like you to the Batman."

Jim swallowed the pooling blood inside his mouth, which was made even more difficult by the knife's tip still pressed up into his face. It wasn't a deep cut, he could tell. But it was enough to keep him in place.  
Staring up at The Joker with an incredulous expression of both anger and loathing, Jim tried to gather some of his courage back.

The Joker looked back at Jim for a moment, a frown slowly moving across his face.

"It's the scars right?" he sighed, pressing the blade a little closer into Jim's skin. "_Always_ with the staring and the gawping! Jesus, it's like having a conversation with a bunch of goddamn goldfish!"

Jim wanted to deny it. Perhaps it would save him.  
But he couldn't.  
The scars seemed to entrance him almost as much as they repulsed him. He continued to stare at them, a frown sweeping across his brow. What had happened to this man to cause something so.....so twisted?

A cold stone weight dropped in Jim's stomach as he thought. Whatever had happened to this man , no matter how terrible, was almost certainly going to happen to him if he wasn't careful. He had a knife in his mouth, after all!

He cursed himself, feeling his heart tighten as the image of his broken and crumpled men flashed into his mind. He had killed them. If only he'd just shown this...Joker the way out! If he'd just given him what he wanted - they'd still be alive!

The Joker looked down at him, the black rimmed eyes locking on him like a viper's bite. The frown disappeared from his face and he pouted, chewing at the insides of his mouth.

"So...you wanna know how I got 'em?"

Jim had no chance to answer. The Joker licked his lips, altering the pressure on the knife ever so slightly, reminding Jim of his place.

"When I was a kid," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was a little...._messed up_, shall we say? Mommy was rotting under the floorboards and Daddy had just chugged down a mug full of arsenic. I was alone. I didn't have anybody left. And nobody would take me in. Why would they? I was....._damaged_."

He rolled his eyes skywards, waving a hand in front of him as he did so.

So...they brought me to a place like this. They kept me here for years. Watching. _Observing._ Days went by. Weeks! Months! I screamed and cried. I banged my head against the floor over and over again just to make it stop!" he paused, his voice growing a little darker. "But nobody would come. Nobody ever came."

He cleared his throat, darting his tongue out to lick at his lips. Jim winced as the man jerked him closer towards him, pressing slightly harder on the knife tip.

"One day," The Joker continued, his tone suddenly becoming light again."I get to go eat with the rest of the nut-jobs for good behaviour. I'm just a kid.....I don't know anybody. I haven't been out of my cell for almost seven months! I walk into the place. But I knock into a big, scary-lookin' guy and he drops his food. He looks up at me, fury in his eyes. He gets angry and he grabs me by the throat!"

His hand squeezed around Jim's neck in response to the story, the tension building behind his eyes as he spoke, his voice growing louder and louder.

"He gets hold of something sharp - a scalpel he's hidden away from the doctors office. He holds me down on the table as I scream. And he makes two slits in either side of my mouth. He starts to laugh, telling me that he didn't mean to do it. That he didn't want to hurt me....that it was the _voices_ who told him to do it."

He leant in closer to Jim, their foreheads almost touching

"But he still doesn't let go - _oh no_. No! He presses my face into the corner of the table....and he pushes. The slits get bigger and bigger, until there's barely anything left to sew back together."

Suddenly, he broke into a grin. A manic, insane grin that showed a row of pointed yellow teeth. Jim felt a trickle of blood slowly trailing down his chin and he swallowed carefully, looking up at the insane, crazed man above him, with terror gripping at his throat.

"But you wanna know what the funny thing is, Gordon?" The Joker smirked, manic laughter building in his throat. "A week later, they sent him home - said he was cured. Haha, _cured_! He cuts up my face and they send him _home!_"

"Let him go!"

The blade moved away.

Jim took in gulps of air, his heart pounding inside his chest so rapidly, he thought it was about to explode. The clown looked over Jim's shoulder, the hysterical smile on his face fading only slightly when he spotted the source of the noise.

Jim closed his eyes, shaking. He was here!

The Batman had come!

* * *

**Author's Note : Before I wrote this chapter, I had a twenty minute brainstorming session, thinking up possible stories about how The Joker got his scars (because we all know how much he loves to change his story_. Hopefully, this one was fairly convincing and Jokerish.  
There'll be more varying stories to come in later chapters (although, that it - if anyone is even reading this)**

**Please try to spare five minutes to drop me a review and tell me what I might be doing wrong or right in the fic. I'd like to have some input so that I can either continue as I am, or change things so that you - the readers - will get more out of the story.  
It is for you, after all.**


	5. Returning Harry Giles

**Worst Fear - a Joker Story**

**Meeoko**

**Summary : Ever wondered what happened to The Joker before he came to Gotham City? Sometimes, your fears can catch up with you. Short one-shot fic. Rated M for violence, gore and language.**

**Author's Note's : Just realised I've made a bit of a mistake. Turns out that the Commissioner's name isn't 'Akins', but 'Lowe'. Damn you, Wikipedia!! I forgot this and couldn't be bothered to watch the movie to check. Thank you to Jokers-Girl for pointing that out. **

**Anyway – some good guesses about Harry Giles, but not quite right. You'll see soon enough.**

**

* * *

**

So...the Batman had decided to turn up, after all.

Four different guns pointed all at once, aimed at the darkened figure at the end of the hallway. The boys trembled when they saw him, one whimpering to himself quietly in terror. Maybe he shouldn't have fed them all that crap about the Batman stealing their wings, after all. What good were they if they were too terrified to defend themselves?

For a moment, he simply stared, unable to do much else. He couldn't believe his luck!  
He was _here_? He had turned up, after all? Even after he had specifically told him not to?

But he couldn't deny it to himself. He was ecstatic! He had shown up! Even after everything that had happened within the last week, with all the drama and the blood-shed, the Batman had still made time for him! He was important enough for the big bad bat to come out of hiding! Damn right he was!  
_Him!_  
It chilled his very bones simply thinking about it.

_What a hero!_ He thought. _Still making time for all of the little problems! We'll change that soon enough._

Well, it certainly wouldn't be considered a little problem for much longer!  
It had been fun enough simply toying with the scared and rigid officer in his hands.

He had been banking on Gordon to be his only source of entertainment for the night. And of course, he hadn't been disappointed. It had been more than enjoyable to toy with the man. The terror in his eyes had been reward enough, even when he had spoon-fed him all of that crap about his scars! It had been a truly great show!  
He had responded....well, much like the others that he had killed. Rigid. Terrified. Disturbed and a little repulsed.

But he had no intention of doing away with the officer. Oh no! _No_! Even though his new friend, Gordon had behaved much like the others – stiff and terrified – that same defiant, angry loathing had sparkled behind his eyes the entire way through. It was vallant. Brave even! Nobody had dared look at him like that before - even after The Joker had fed him lie after terrifying lie.

He wouldn't lie to himself.  
He liked this Gordon. Even if he _was _a schemer. There was something far more determined in his stance that separated him from the rest of the filth that usually ended up on the floor bleeding to death. He could almost see it now! Like a commercial!

_"I am a policeman! Justice and the sanctity of the law are my guide. What are yours?"_

Yes, Gordon was just like one big commercial. One stereotypical, differential commercial that seemed to be plaster aedll over the news these days. And he liked that. It would be fun to slowly break down that determined sense of justice and righteousness. Very fun indeed!

"Let him go!" the dark and husky voice of the shadowed bat commanded. "He has no part in this."

For a moment, The Joker considered simply slicing open Gordon's face just to see the look on the bat's face. But he didn't (not that he could quite make out the Batman anyway, hidden underneath a blanket of shadows).  
This was what he had wanted, even if he had denied it entirely. And he had no intention of spoiling it with useless blood-shed.

The Batman! Here, bold and ready! He was everything that The Joker had expected him to be!

"And uh, what if I don't want to?" he replied, regaining his composure just enough to press the tip of the knife back to Gordon's mouth.

The officer flinched underneath his touch and a small static thrill shot up his spine. How he loved to see them quiver like that! It sent his blood running thick and fast! Even if the bat hadn't shown up – he would have kept himself quite happy toying with the cop!

The Batman remained silent. A pair of piercing, angry, darkened eyes stared at him through the shadows. For a moment, it almost reminded him of his father!

Out of the corner of his eye, The Joker could see his men trembling.  
The terrified shaking of hands on gun triggers, all more than ready to open fire on the man who had stolen their wings! The newest additions to the army began to whimper and mutter to themselves, no longer sure of what to do. Of course, many of them would have never seen, never mind _heard _of The Batman. How could they, when they had been hidden away inside the darkness for so long?

Many of them began to shuffle, taking several hesitant steps towards the exit, but stopping once again as they looked towards the darkened shadow blocking their path.

He tried not to laugh.  
He could just imagine it now – his men, his _army_.....cowering in the face of a shadow. The man that they believed had stolen their sanity. But he supposed that it was understandable. He had feared the shadows too, once upon a time. Or at least until they had stepped out into the light and he realised that they had just been more men with big needles.

For a moment, he was reminded of the Shadow Men – the irritating, ever-present illusion in their minds that they constantly liked to remind him about. Always there, waiting in anticipation of their movements. The same old, boring fantasies that seemed to keep his men so terrified.

He considered his options.

There weren't many, but wasn't that was the point? It wouldn't be any fun at all if he made things too easy for himself, would it? That was the aim of the game, after all! You'd never let your opponent win so easily! No! No, you would try everything that you could to make victory that much harder! This was what he had wanted after all, even if he had kept it hidden from the rest of the world.

The Batman. Here and real! Taking time out of his busy day just to come and see _him_!  
How wonderful it was!

"I believe I told you not to come." he finally managed, breaking through the silence that spread thickly through the few yards that separated them. "Or weren't you listening?"

His reply was silence.

Darting his tongue out to lick at his lips, The Joker fought the almost overwhelming urge to run. Not away, but _towards _The Batman. Knife drawn, guns blazing.

Letting the silence hang for a moment, he sighed, pulling officer Gordon towards him a little more than he should have. It wasn't anything personal. It was simply a reminder. As he had said only a few moment earlier – it wouldn't do to get ahead of himself before the big unveiling.

Only, even _he _didn't know what 'the big unveiling' was yet!

Feeling the air beginning to grow stale, The Joker allowed his smile to fade. He looked down at Gordon for a moment, chewing at the inside of his mouth thoughtfully, before he sighed and pulled the officer closer to him.  
Of course, he didn't expect The Batman to take things lightly. No. No, that would be pure suicide! You should never underestimate your enemy! But although he desperately wished that he could simply stay and converse with The Bat – he had things to do. Places to go. People to kill.

Spinning the officer around so that his back was pressed up against his chest, he held the knife a little closer, manoeuvring the blade away from his mouth to his throat. It wasn't as much fun, but at least then this...._Batman_ would know that he meant business.

"I hate to rush out on a dinner party so early" he growled a little angrily, glaring at the darkened shape in the doorway "But I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me."

He expected him to move towards him. To pummel the hell out of him in one fell swoop. To growl or snarl in anger. To do....something!  
But he did none of these things. No.

He did nothing. Simply stood there, looking over at the rigid officer in his grasp.

For a moment, he frowned. What a disappointment! Why did he have to let that stupid sense of justice keep him from just doing what he wanted? To hell with Gordon - why couldn't he just simply listen to his instincts like the rest of the free-loving world? Was it _really _so much to ask for a good old-fashioned, brutal ass-kicking these days?

He sighed, chewing at the inside of his mouth irritably. Obviously, things would be made far easier if the Bat allowed him to simply glide away into the night. No blood spilt. No more bodies. No fatalities. Job done!  
But that wasn't what he wanted. No. No! That wasn't what he wanted at all!

What was _wrong _with him? Didn't he realise when somebody was baiting him? Or was he too concerned about the only surviving cop to take much more of an interest?

Letting an aggravated puff of air escape from between his lips, The Joker admitted defeat. Obviously, this was going to be an open-and-shut case. The same boring, easy operation that he was so used to. No challenge. No drama. No action.

But it was better than nothing. After all, hadn't he specifically told thousands of people that he didn't want the bat to turn up? And these days, it was best to keep up appearances.

Slowly, he pushed forward, Gordon still in his hands. He made sure to push the tip of the blade into the cop's throat just enough so that the officer's breathing became a little erratic. At least that way, he would be able to keep his new overly dramatic, self righteous pet and still avoid the crushing blows of the masked vigilante. Not that he seemed all too keen to make the first move, anyway!

He hadn't been lying when he had told Gordon that he had no intention of killing him. Far from it! No. No. It was a nice change of pace to find somebody that would willingly look him in the eye and defy him, instead of cowering and pleading and begging.  
No. No, he wouldn't kill Gordon. Or at least, not unless he had to. It was probably the only thing that he _hadn't_ lied about in almost three weeks!

The officer swallowed, moving slowly along with him as The Joker took his first experimental step forward. Of course, the only available exit was the doorway in which Bats was standing – but that was a risk he would have to take.

If he played his cards right, he might even get a knock over the back of the head! Or a knife in the back! And then things would turn into a hostage situation (which technically – it was anyway. Even if it was a lie).

But still, the Bat didn't move. It was infuriating!  
Feeling the smile inside him building, The Joker began to edge slowly forward, Gordon still in his grasp. Looking over at his men, and the large white-clad train of people that followed, cowering against the walls, he flicked his head in the direction of the exit.

His men were hesitant.

Of course they were. They were _terrified _of The Batman! And why shouldn't they be? It was he, after all, that had stolen their wings!

As far as The Joker was concerned, if they weren't terrified – they weren't doing their jobs!

After a moment, the shuffling white men and women also began to move, although they were far more obvious in their fear. Most of them had probably never heard of the Bat before and now, as soon as they were released – there he was! A looming tower of darkness, standing in the doorway to freedom. Not exactly the most inviting gateway into a new life.

How delicious it was!

Gordon winced underneath his fingers as he realised that he had been pushing the knife into his skin just a little too hard. He let up ever so slightly, smiling. He was just too excited! The Batman, here and now – only a few feet away from him! He was starting to feel a little giddy with excitement!

* * *

Jim felt his throat tightening. Something warm trickled slowly down the nape of his neck and he winced, careful not to move too much. The Joker's grip lessened ever so slightly, though the firm press of the knife was still as evident.

It wasn't like a threat. Not with _this_ man. It was more like a promise!

He stared over at Batman, standing in the frame of the doorway. He looked angry, but calm – as he always did. Their eyes met and as Jim shuffled forward slowly, he kept his jaw firm and his face as closed as possible. He wanted him to stay put. He couldn't go rushing into things and jepordising the patients! Who knew what this lunatic would do if he got the chance?  
Hopefully, the masked man would understand him.

They stopped barely five feet in front of Batman. The Joker waved a hand behind himself, gesturing towards his men. He cold hear whimpering coming from them. Barely disguised shuffling feet and nervous titters of laughter. Jim took in a hesitant breath. He was sure that The Joker was still smiling.

"Come on, come on." he barked behind him, a little irritably. "_Move it!_ You waiting for Christmas or something? Jesus!"

"You're not going anywhere."

There was a pause as Batman's raspy voice hung in the air. Everything was still. The Joker tugged at Jim's shoulder slightly, pulling him back a little closer.

"Ah! Well _actually_," the merry voice sounded in his ear "I am. There's been a change of plan. I'm afraid we're going to have to save our little dance for some other time. There's still _so _many things I have to take care of....and I'm pretty sure Harry's starting to miss the daylight now."

He motioned at Jim, pushing the knife a little closer into the flesh. He tried not to wince. If he did, he was sure to die. But there was something too unstable about this nut-job. Jim hadn't seen it before, in all his twenty years in the force. And it scared him.

This man...he was something different. Something unstable. And something unstoppable!

"So, uh....if you don't mind..."

He tugged at Jim's throat and they turned, slowly moving towards the door. They stopped directly opposite Batman, Jim acting as the human shield. His captor remained still and he stared down at Jim, his steely gaze boring down on him like a lead weight. He was smiling.

Slowly, the masked clowns began to shuffle towards the door, passing the Batman with trembling hands as they held the guns before them. The Archym patients stood where they were, both confused and afraid.

"Go." The Joker grumbled at them, flicking his head after the retreating clowns. "You wanna have to stay in here with the giant bat or what? Go, _go_!"

There was a moments hesitation, as the patients fiddled with their clothing and muttered to themselves. They didn't seem to know what to do. But eventually, slowly, they too began to filter out through the door, each walking blindly into the darkness like lost sheep.  
Some of them ran the last few steps as they rushed past the hollowed shadow of Batman, both eager and terrified to be away from the shadows. Some were a little more guarded and gave him a wide berth entirely, whilst one of them simply stood and stared at him for a moment before giggling happily to himself and moving out of the door.

It took almost five minutes for them to make it out of the door.

Jim looked at each and every one of them, thinking back over the names and details that he had memorised from their charts. He needed to remember all that he could!

Many of them had fear in their eyes, obvious for the world to see, having been beaten and broken for so long now. Hidden from the world in their shame. Like lost and frightened children. Jim felt a moment of pity for them as he watched the last man stroll through the doorway.  
But even through all of that fear, he could still clearly see the excitement behind the terror.

The anticipation of release. Of freedom. They could taste it and they weren't willing to give that up for anyone.  
Even a giant shadow.

"You won't get away with this."

Jim looked back over towards Batman, swallowing awkwardly as the knife point continued to press into the skin of his jaw. A barking laugh escaped from The Joker's lips as he slowly began to edge them both away towards the door.

"Why do they always _say _that?" he chuckled. "'_You won't get away with this!_' It's just so cliché!"

He sounded incredibly amused and he bounced slightly on the ball of his feet as he spoke – almost as if he were excited! Jim flinched and stood stone still, wanting to avoid being skewered by the movement.

"And well, frankly," The Joker giggled to himself. "half the time...I _do _get away with it! Honestly Bats, I think you might want to get some new material."

They crossed underneath the doorway. Jim began to walk backwards, looking over at the darkened shadow standing in the doorway. His hands were wrapped up in the billowing blackness of his cape and Jim was almost certain that he was fingering one of his little metal bats, probably considering whether or not to throw one right at them.

But still he remained motionless, watching after them as they began to descend the stairs.

"I'll find you." he growled darkly after them.

Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, The Joker pulled out a piece of card and threw it to the floor. It fell onto the linoleum face up, staring Jim in the face as he was pulled down the stairs and out of sight.

"I'm counting on it." replied the menacing whisper in his ear.

Struggling to move down the stairs, Jim watched as the shape of the Batman disappeared around the corner. Only the reddened little figure of the joker on the playing card.

* * *

He'd finally thought of it!

The initiation! The first exam to become a member of his new army. It was perfect!

Afterall, it had been done to him – the boss. So wouldn't it just be perfectly fitting to have the new recruits do the same? Otherwise it just wouldn't be fair. Sure, it'd hurt like hell and some of them might now survive, but it was all worth it!

And more importantly - it was_ fair._

After all, he had what he wanted! He had managed to avoid having the Bat kick the crap out of him, he had his army _and_ he hadn't had to resort to killing Mr. Gordon to do it. He rather liked his new...._pet_, and although the cop had glared intensely at him as he had driven away from the gates of Archym in the back of the truck, he was certain that he and Officer Gordon were going to become firm friends.

The apartment was cramped, to say the least. It wasn't easy fitting thirty muttering, confused lunatics into a one bedroomed apartment. If anything, it was getting a little annoying. Half of them smelt like shit and many of them just wouldn't shut up! Always with the crying and the muttering! Jesus, what were they - children?  
You didn't see _him _whining and crying like a little baby! No!

Perhaps he should think about relocating? It certainly helped that the building was almost entirely deserted, but again – there was just too much to do and so little to think about! He had to get to work!

But first things first!

"Newcomer?"

The wiry boy looked up from the spot on the floor he had avidly been staring at. There were dark circles under his eyes and he twitched nervously. The presence of so many people seemed to disturb him slightly, and he had barely said a word in over thirty minutes. He looked as if he might burst into either hysterical tears, or laughter and The Joker fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Why did he _always _have to pick the nervous, twitchy, antisocial ones?

Oh yes, that was right!  
They were reliable. They didn't ask questions. They did what they were told.

"Do me a favour and take Harry over to Gladstone Park, will ya?" he asked, trying to ignore one of the men beside him, who was crying to himself. "I suspect our, uh....our new friend, Mr. Gordon will be expecting us to live up to our part of the bargain. And it wouldn't do to break our word now, would it?"

The young man shook his head, though his mouth hung open as if he hadn't understood a single word. Timidly, he shuffled through the hustle of swaying people crammed into the apartment, heading towards the windowsill. Reaching over with twitching hands and picking up the CD, he turned back around and walked towards the door, hurriedly fitting the clown mask over his face as he did so.

"Oh and, uh – Newcomer?"

The boy stopped short of the door, his trembling hand already on the knob. The CD was clutched tightly in his other hand, as if he was terrified to let it go. He didn't want to upset his boss. God, no! There was nothing worse he could do.

"Don't, uh....don't go and get caught, huh?" The Joker licked at his lips. "No more dangerous driving, right? Wouldn't want you getting in an accident or anything now, would we? We all remember what happened last time I let you drive."

The boy shook his head, the eyes inside the clown mask darting back towards the floor. The Joker nodded pleasantly at the boy, happy with the same silent obedience that seemed to be so important to Newcomer.  
Opening the door, he stepped out and closed it almost silently behind him.

Smiling a small and contented smile to himself, The Joker stretched his legs, sitting in his usual position at the table with his feet up on the surface.

_Ahh_, such stupid small-town cops! How enjoyable it was to mess with them!

He had been fiddling with his radio remote for a while to see that the bug was still intact. They hadn't found it yet.  
But he felt bad. Perhaps he should give them a bit more of a fighting chance? Maybe he should tell them where Harry Giles _really _was. He was sure that it was probably pretty hard to miss the big fat man at the bottom of the radio shaft, splattered all over the floor like a pancake.

He giggled to himself, pushing a loose hair back behind his ear. You'd think they would have figured it out sooner!  
By now the fat man must be making an awful stink!

The men and women crammed into the room were still staring at him expectantly, as if they were waiting for him to do something. It was beginning to get a little annoying.

He suddenly missed the reliable company of his nervous, simple-minded soldier, Newcomer. That was why he liked the boy. He kept his mouth shut. He was happy to content himself in silence, unlike the rest of the filth that seemed to wait on his every word.

Jesus! Couldn't people just be happy with their _own_ company these days? It was like everybody seemed to have codependancy issues!

Newcomer was the only one he seemed to be able to rely on these days! It sounded a little strange to him and he played the thought back again over in his head. Huh. Who'd have thought? Relying on a mental patient to get things done...  
But then again, he had been the same once and he had gotten quite a few things done! And although he probably would have denied it under pain of death, The Joker was really beginning to get a bit of a soft spot for the boy.

For a moment he simply sat there, deep in thought.

He was thinking about Newcomer. Pondering.  
Trying to remember the time he'd found him, writhing and twitching in his darkened cell, looking up at him pathetically. Yes. That memory still stood strong in his mind, even if a lot of other things didn't.

What was his name?

_Simon? Sam? Schiff?_ He found he couldn't remember, nor did he much care. The boy was lucky enough to have been given a new name at all!

He knew he'd sprung him from Archym a few years back, if he remembered rightly. His memory wasn't what it used to be, what with all of the drugs and the beatings and the blood. But he remembered that he had wanted to take the boy with him, along with the other's.

Couldn't for the life of him remember why though!  
Maybe he'd been bored? Maybe because he reminded him a little of his younger brother, now dead.

Had he busted him out in a blaze of angelic glory? Maybe he'd just done it because he thought that it would be funny to watch the doctor's and nurses run around it terror? Or was it from the time he had escaped from his own cell and decided to take a few followers along with him for the ride?

He shook his head, licking his lips.

He'd escaped from so many of those nut-houses, it was hard to remember. Was Newcomer the one he'd used as a human shield, or the one that he'd stabbed in the leg?

The Joker chewed on the inside of his mouth, still trying to ignore the sobbing man beside him. He sighed. It really was starting to get quite irritating.  
He hated cry-babies!  
If he kept up that pathetic, pitiful crying - he might just go and ahead and kill him.

He didn't want any cry-babies in his operation! No. No, there was no room for humanity now. That would ruin everything! Take away the illusion.

Perhaps the cry-baby could be the first one to begin the initiation? Just for practice. It had been a while since The Joker had gone to work and at least, if the cry-baby _did_ just go and bleed to death – he would still get to have had a bit of fun in the process.

Rising to his feet, The Joker finally decided to take centre stage.

He'd left the new recruits in silence for long enough now. He was going to have to talk to them at _some_ point, even if they were a bunch of weak, psychotic, drooling idiots!

Standing on the chair and then awkwardly hoisting himself awkwardly onto the top of the table, he looked over at the sea of white-clad men and women staring at him in nervous expectation. Goddamnit, his leg hurt! Why wouldn't it just hurry up and heal, already?

There was a buzz of excitement as he towered above them and the low buzz of muttering slowly grew in volume. He cleared his throat.

"Hey, hey!_ Excuse me_, can I get your attention please? Just for a minute. Hey! Hey you – shut up!"

Silence fell over the crowd as the mumbling and excited titters were silenced. Nodding to himself, The Joker swept his arms outwards in a small bow.

"Well my friends I think it's time I explained."

He'd just start feeding them all of the same shit he'd been feeding the others. It wold be easy. More crap about 'fallen angels'. And they would follow. Willingly and stupidly. Because they always did.

* * *

Jim stood poised with his fingers resting on the hilt of his gun.

Feeling his temper beginning to give way, he irritably slapped away the medic that was trying to bandage up his neck wound, looking out of the window for the tenth time in the last minute.

"Leave it. Just leave it. I'll be fine!"

In all honesty, Jim knew that he should probably go and get himself sorted out and go get a shot. Who knew what kind of crap that knife might have had on it? He also knew that he was just being sharp towards the medic because he was angry. It wasn't fair, of course. The man was only trying to help.

But he couldn't help it. He was just far too angry!

Jim cursed gruffly, wincing as he took a sip of coffee. The cut to his mouth wasn't serious. He wouldn't need stitches or anything – but it sure as hell hurt!

He didn't know if this was a good thing or not.  
At least now he might be able to start weaning himself off of the nasty bitter instant coffee that he was constantly drinking!

He shook his head furiously, looking out of the window. It was driving him insane! He'd never been so unbelievably angry in his entire life!

He was angry because he had been stupid!

He had let this..._Joker_ slip right through his fingers and the crazed bastard had gotten away with it, scot free! All because he hadn't been paying attention! Because he'd been too cocky, too confident! He thought his reasoning could have saved those people – but instead, he'd let himself be used as a hostage! And his stupidity had lost four men their lives and cost Archym Asylum a total of thirty four highly dangerous and unstable patients!

He cursed himself, slamming a fist down onto the table.

The Batman hadn't been happy, to say the least. But then again, he never looked happy. Jim hadn't heard from him since he had fled from Archym, along with all of the security footage he could carry and the single Joker playing card that had been left behind.

Rubbing at his eyes and again turning towards the window, Jim sighed. The medic let out a breath through his nose, realising that the situation was useless.

It was Commissioner Akins himself who had given Jim specific orders to wait back at headquarters for the recovery team to return. He'd spoon-fed him a load of crap about how he was too traumatised to be able to properly handle a hostage situation! And Jim couldn't openly disobey a direct order from a higher authority. So he had stayed, silently fuming and barking angrily at anybody unfortunate enough to cross him.

The goddamn _nerve_!

He should be out there now with the recovery team at Gladstone Park, taking Harry Giles back to his family! Not stuck in the stuffy office with these nervy medics! That is, if the clown even _intended _on returning Harry!

At that moment, the radio crackled and Jim's hand shot out, instantly reaching for it.

"_We've got something, Gordon. But it ain't Harry Giles."_

Jim's gaze finally moved away from the window, looking out towards the door through the glass windows of his office.

"What are we talking about here?" Jim replied, angrily. "A body? A ransom?"

The reply was hesitant.

"_We don't know, Gordon. We found it at the park. Just a note along with it. We're coming up now."_

"Right."

Jim sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. What the hell was going on now? Where was Harry Giles? Had they not done a wide enough search of the park? Had they missed something?

Waving away the medic, Jim felt his fingers clamping tightly over the arms of his chair as he waited the full, agonisingly slow five minutes for his men to return. After a while, they burst through the entrance, still decked in riot gear. There were three of them and each looked guarded as they walked between the cubicles and barged into his office.

There was something in the leader's hand.

"So – what is it?" Jim snapped, leaning forward in his chair.

The officer took his helmet off and placed it in the desk. There was a green casing in his hand. It looked like a CD case.

"There was a note with it." the man spoke up, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Said to have a better look in the radio tower."

Jim's heart clenched. What was _that_ supposed to mean? Had they missed something? Was Harry Giles already...already dead?

The officer moved towards the stereo in the corner of the room, taking the CD out of its casing with careful hands. Slotting it into the stereo, he pushed the play button and walked back over towards Jim.

There was silence. The timer on the CD player clicked slowly. Three seconds gone by. Four...five.

"_Hello ladies and gentleman and welcome to this afternoons broadcast! I'm Harry Giles and you're listening to Gotham One! We have a very special line-up for you today, including guest speaker, Harvey Dent, now in the running for Gotham's new DA!"_

Jim froze, leaning forward towards the CD. It was Harry Giles, alright! It was....it was a recording!

"_But before we go into that, let me be the first to congratulate new star, Hillary Clinton on becoming the winner of 'I'm A Celebrity – Get Me Out of Here!' The boys and I here a Gotham One have come up with our own sketch about what life might be like if we all got stranded in the jungle!"_

Jim shook his head, his mouth hanging open. No. No....  
He felt his heart beginning to tighten in his chest as he listened to the theme tune of the television show playing and Harry Giles' voice sounding over the tape.

"_It's okay, Harry. It's just a snake bite. We'll get you fixed up in no time! Sure we don't have any medical supplies or food – but you'll pull through!"_

"_Pull through, Mike? My foot fell off! How can I pull through that?!"_

"_Ahh, well....not to worry, Harry. You'll be fine. We'll get you a new one."_

"_This place is driving me insane, Mike! Somebody - please! Get me out of here!"_

"_Oh no! Look - Harry, eating your shoe isn't going to help anyone!"_

Jim stood up from his chair rapidly, moving over towards the stereo. He pressed down on the button stiffly, rewinding the CD backwards. He pressed the play button with shaking fingers.  
No. No. It couldn't be right. It couldn't!

"_...driving me insane, Mike! Somebody – please! Get me out of here!"_

He rewound it again, feeling the anger gripping at his heart.

"_Somebody – please! Get me out of here!"_

He lashed out, the anger bursting out from inside him as he let out an angry scream. The stereo fell to the floor, one of the speakers clattering noisily to the ground as it shattered in half. The CD jammed, juddering over and over again.

"_Get me out of here!- Get me out of here!- Get me out of here!-"_

"That _son of a bitch_!" Jim screamed, throwing his arms in the air. "That conniving, psychotic goddamn clown's been feeding us a load of bullshit this whole time! This _whole time_ – and Harry Giles might already be dead!"

The men stood where they were, silent. Each of them had a look of pure fury on their faces and Jim suddenly felt foolish for lashing out so childishly in front of his men. He couldn't afford to lose it now. He'd just contaminated evidence because he'd lost his temper, and he let out a shallow breath, furious with himself.

He needed to take action! He was going to find this goddamn clown if it killed him!

Pulling a phone out of his pocket, Jim began to dial, barking orders to the men as he did so and pointing at each of them in turn.

"_You_ – organise a full sweep of the Gothem One radio tower! A _full _sweep! We're not looking for bugs anymore! See if any recordings have gone missing from the archives! _You_ – get Commissioner Akins on the phone, give him all the details you can! Alert MSU and do another sweep of Gladstone Park! Try and get hold of any DNA traces on either the note, or the case!"

Dialing as quickly as he possibly could, Gordon stormed out of the room, feeling only slightly better as he heard the sharp clash of the door slamming against the wall.

He headed for the fire exit, feeling his fury beginning to build as he took the stairs two at a time. All this time! _All this time_, they'd been giving in to this madman's demands, intent on saving Harry Giles' life! When all along they'd been duped! Blindly following the recorded words from a CD!!

How could he have been so goddamn stupid? Why hadn't he _checked _for any missing documents? Why had he let that nut walk all over him?!

The Batman was going to hear about this!

* * *

**Author's Note's : Ahhh...now it all becomes clear! Harry Giles was the fat guy that was killed in the first chapter. It was a CD recording of the radio show. They used it so it sounded like him really being kidnapped over the radio message. Ahh, the plot thickens! Mean and eefhill!  
Mwahahahaha!**

**Well, I'm sure you didn't miss the reference to the movie when The Joker was thinking about Newcomer. You remember Schiff Thomas? The guy that got shot in the leg? Yup – that's Newcomer!  
I always thought that The Joker might see one of his followers as a bit of a....family, I suppose. Like a son. So in a weird kind of way, he's a little bit like a father figure to his boys (even if he hates them all, apart from Newcomer).**

**And as for the uh... 'initiation' – you'll see soon enough exactly what it is. It won't be pretty, mind you.**


	6. Initiation

**Worst Fear - a Joker Story**

Meeoko

Summary : They say the night is darkest before the dawn. But I like the dark - I like it a lot! That's why I built an army. An army of fallen angels. Joker-focused fic. Begins just before The Dark Knight. Rated M.

**Author's Note's : Just wanted to get this out before the countdown tonight. Happy New Year, everybody!**

**Just wanted to say thank you for the awesome feedback I've gotten recently (especially from a good friend of mine, Kami-Inu).**

This has been received pretty well and I'm glad that I've gotten a lot of you thinking about the psychological issues behind the characters and relationships. That's why I'm only keeping the perspectives between Gordon, Joker and Newcomer.  
**  
Oh, and just to clear something up that Kami-Inu asked me (I'm running late to a party, so will reply to you as soon as I get back). Anything that is written in italics (such as the paragraph below) are memories. The Joker's memories. I'm not going to be giving too much away, because I think it adds to the mystique, but I'm going to be giving you bits here and there about how life might have once been.**

**

* * *

**

_There was blood, of that he was certain. Lots of blood. _

_Too much to be healthy._

_He could barely even feel the pain anymore. The drugs had done their job. He longer screamed. His throat was blistered and raw from shrieking. He swallowed and licked at his lips, trying to quench his parched throat. But nothing would work. _

_He was losing too much blood._

_They no longer laughed and jeered at his agony. No longer sliced and stabbed at him carelessly just to see his reaction. __Instead they began taking things a little more seriously, poking and prodding at his insides as carefully as surgeons.  
But there was nothing professional about what they had done. Not at all._

_They hadn't even thought to drug him until they had made the first few incisions._

_He looked down, his head spinning from the drugs and loss of blood. They should have lain him down. He wouldn't lose as much blood that way. The white-gloved hands were prodding at the wounds, soaked with sticky red blood. They were clutching at something brown, pushing it back inside. He guessed that it was his liver._

"_Hey...hey." he muttered, his mouth not working properly. "Not...not on the first date, pal."_

_He giggled to himself and he could feel something shaking in his abdomen. Something loose. He was pretty certain it wasn't supposed to be._

_Again, he swallowed, his head swimming.  
The faces were looking down on him and his vision began to blur at the corners, mixing different faces together as one. Slowly, he stuck his dry tongue out at them, taking in a sharp breath. He choked, coughing as blood filled his mouth. Goddamnit! He had re-opened his scars again. Just when they were beginning to heal!_

_He wondered if they intended to save him or not. They had said they would._

"_Le-lemme get up now." he mumbled. "Can't feel my legss..."_

_They ignored him. _

_Feebly, he tried again to move. He tugged, but the straps held firm, keeping him pinned down to the chair. His head lolled, falling forward onto his chest with the effort. He wasn't going anywhere. __The straps would tighten every time he struggled against them and he had eventually lost feeling in his wrists. He saw a thin line of blood began to trickle out from underneath the straps, onto his fingertips._

"_Hurss like hell...." he muttered to himself, the drugs slurring his words._

_It was cold, but he couldn't stop sweating. The distinct smell of marijuana and surgical equipment made his nose burn._

_He could sense somebody pushing. Pushing too hard. _

_A repressed build-up surged through his stomach. Lurching his head to the side, he retched, vomiting a mixture of food and blood up onto the floor. __They jumped away, grimacing in distaste as the smell hit them.  
__His throat burnt and he coughed, the pained itching forcing him to retch again, emptying the very last of the contents of his stomach onto the floor._

_He gasped, trying to breathe, feeling a little giggle escape his lips. Sweat fell into his eyes as his head fell forward. Blood mixed in his mouth and he swallowed it, desperate for anything to drink. __His vision faltered. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and he swayed in the chair, taking in heavy lungfull's of air._

"_I-I...it hurss" he panted, leaning over himself. "Hurts...it hurts..."_

_The drugs began to wear off. He'd just thrown up half of them onto the floor!_

_Suddenly, pain hit him. Hard and fast.  
It stabbed at his insides and stung at the open incision in his stomach, eating at the edges like a virus. He could feel it now. All of it._

_He took in a lungful of air and screamed._

_White-hot needles of pain jabbed inside of him, pulling at his thumping heart so violently he thought it would explode. Currents of pain were shooting up and down his body, pooling in his stomach and sizzling. Like he was burning!_

"_Hit me!" he screamed to them. "Shit! Shit! Hit me!"_

_Feeling the agonising pain give him a burst of strength, he tried to struggle free. His body barely responded at all as he continued to howl. His limbs were still hazy from the drugs and the torment. Blood welled up in his throat and he spat it out, gasping. His weakened body screamed out in agony as the blood continued to pool into his lap. _

"_Hit me! Goddamnit, you sick son of a- _ahhh_!"_

_He continued screaming, taking in great gasps of air in between. Why wouldn't they knock him out?! _

_He writhed in agony, ignoring the black spots dancing in front of his eyes. His head lolled forward as he panted, desperate for air. __His eyes began to sting sharply and he closed them as tightly as he could, forcing the tears back down inside. No! He wouldn't! No! NO!_

"_I'll...I'll kill you..." he whispered through clenched teeth, a stiff smile on his face. "All'a you...slowly. I'll-I'll find you, you sick bastards. I...I swear to God...."_

_When he looked back up again, he saw the darkened shadows coming back towards him._

They had big, broad smiles on their faces.

_

* * *

_

"Now, just sit tight." he smiled. "You, uhm, you might feel a bit fuzzy and some, uh...._poking_, but try not to worry. I know what I'm doing - I'm a doctor!"

The Joker beamed his biggest and most un-threatening smile at the man strapped down onto the table. The man stared back at him stupidly.

The sound of a surgical glove snapping into place echoed over the empty, darkened room. What a nice place to operate! So quiet and secluded. He had found it this morning. A nice, empty room on one of the top floors of the building. Where nobody would hear the screaming. It would do nicely.

The bulky man looked up at him with a mixture of apprehension, confusion and eagerness from his position on the table. After all, if he passed the test – he could become one of them! He would get his wings back!

"You...you gonna ge'mme my wings back, boss?"

Heh! So predictable!  
The Joker smiled gently at the big man's pathetic, slurred words. Tilting his head ever so slightly to the right, he looked down at the large man strapped down to the table. The big guy looked kinda like a pancake at this angle.

"Yeah." he whispered, leaning in a little closer to the man. "We're gonna go get your wings. But _first_...you need to pass the test. If you really_ are_ the angel you say you are, I'll go inside and find all the shiny little white lights._ Just_ like the other angels!"

He licked at his lips, moving back away from the man and scratching at the back of his head.

"_Am _I gonna find shiny lights, big guy? Or have you been telling me porkies?"

The man looked instantly terrified and he nodded his head heavily up and down, as if he were petrified that his saviour wouldn't find the proof that he was looking for. His movements were slow from the drugs and his eyes rolled back in his head a little.

"N-no boss. _Honest_...I en't been lying. You'll find 'em, boss... I _know_ theyss in there! I...I can feel 'em buzzing. Buzzin' round like little fireflies."

The Joker nodded, pouting slightly. Shining fireflies? Pfft! More like indigestion! Or gas!  
God, he hoped it _wasn't_ gas....

"Alright then! Let's see if I can find those lights..."

It was easy to get them to follow him so avidly. All it took was a few little words and a smile. Just a _single_ smile! He'd told them that he'd make the voices go away and that he'd replace them with bright lights.

_Like Christmas! _He thought to himself, chuckling.

What a load of shit! How easy it was to get these people to cooperate!

But he wasn't going to be purposely callous. _No, no, no!_  
He wouldn't be as careless and as messy as the people who had done it to him. Jesus, he wasn't _that _sick!

He couldn't _afford_ to be careless. Carelessness would end up costing him his army (even if he intended to kill most of them anyway, once they had served their purpose). Carelessness had cost a lot of people a lot of things.

It had cost Archym their patients.  
It had cost Gordon Harry Giles, four of his men and all his precious plans.  
It had cost the Batman the chance to beat the hell out of him.

...and it was going to cost Gotham its sanity.

The Joker liked the idea of a confused, screaming, burning Gotham and he thought on it for a moment, poking at his teeth with the tip of his tongue. Yes, he liked that idea very much.

But for the moment, he had to behave. If he was too careless, he'd end up having all of his nice new friends bleed to death on the dining table. And he couldn't have that! Blood was a real bitch to get out of carpet and then he'd have to go and find himself some more angels.  
No. _He_ had thought ahead! He had planned to avoid making any little..._mistakes_. Not like those same bunch of jackasses that had given him the idea in the first place. They'd been careless, and look where it had gotten them....

He was still here. They weren't. Simple.

In preparation for the initiation, he'd gotten a nice big table to operate on and had made sure the fat man had chugged down a whole mess of drugs first. He'd even used a fairly clean scalpel! How nice he was to these people! He could have just gone and done it with his penknife! Sure, it would have been more fun – but then he'd probably end up having half of them die on him.

They were lucky to have a boss like him!

The Joker licked at his lips, pushing the loose hair back behind his ears. It had been a while since he'd last operated. But he'd gotten some good practice in. Sure, the guy might have bled to death – but it didn't matter. He was going to kill him anyway! Goddamn cry-babies drove him nuts!

"Do ya know what it feels like to have your insides on fire, big guy?" he asked, staring down at the man strapped to the table.

He shook his head slowly as the drugs finally took their hold. He had the same stupid and giddy smile on his face. The Joker let a small smile creep over his teeth.

"Good. Wouldn't wanna ruin the _surprise_ now, would we?"

Tugging on the straps to make sure that they were secure, he patted the fat man on the head. He was looking up at him stupidly, like a kid who'd seen his first baseball game. It made him smile, knowing just how easily he could take this man's life away.  
After all, they'd taken_ his_ away. Why not do it to somebody else?

_'Do unto others'_ and all that sort of stuff.

He reached up a hand underneath his shirt, feeling for the large, bumpy scar along his abdomen. It was still there, as he knew it would be. It went from his belly button, all the way to the right side of his body. It'd been a few years, but it still felt as ugly as ever underneath his fingertips.

Really, he was just like one big scar! Stab wounds, gun-shot wounds, burn marks, bite marks, needle marks – he was just like one big festering _scar_! The thought made him giggle. A scar in a purple suit!  
It was amazing he'd survived at all, when he thought about it. But – fair was fair, after all!

Picking up a block of wood from the table, he put it into the fat angel's mouth, patting him on the cheek and smiling.

"You just go ahead and bite down on that now, big guy. Okay? There's a good boy."

Reaching for the scalpel at his side, The Joker smiled. He had plans for this one all right. Oh _yes_, he did!

Where'd he put that phone?

* * *

Jim sighed.

He was finally sitting at home, drinking coffee at his kitchen table. He winced when the warm liquid seeped into the cut on his mouth. It really was starting to get on his nerves. Every single time he moved his mouth or took a sip, he'd have to close his mouth shut again to stop it from stinging. Like he was sucking on a lemon.

The thought made Jim realise just how much coffee he must get through in a single day. It was easier to keep count when every sip made you cringe.

There was nothing left to do at the station. Nothing he _could _do. CSI had found Harry Giles' body, just like it had said in the note attached to the CD case. He'd been pushed down one of the disused ladder shafts at the radio tower. It looked like he'd been dead for quite some time. He was still waiting for the results.  
The SWAT units were doing another sweep of Archym, searching for fingerprints and going back over the security tapes. He'd sent out units to look at some of the footage from Gotham's speed cameras, in the hope that they'd spot the delivery truck that The Joker had been travelling in.

But so far, nothing.

"How are you feeling, Jim?"

Barbra looked over at him from the other side of the table.

She slid a hand over the surface to rest on his own. She squeezed his fingers gently, her smooth little hands making him wonder at just how fragile she seemed. Jim couldn't help but smile a small smile, even if it hurt like hell.  
Barbra always knew how to make him feel better.

"I'm alright, Barb. Guess I'm just thinking."

"What about?"

She looked over at him, her beautiful eyes showing concern. Jim felt his stomach tighten. He felt awful, constantly putting her through this. She worried about him so much and it seemed that he was never at home these days! He didn't know how she put up with him most of the time, but he was glad she did.

He wrapped his hand around hers, turning the golden wedding ring on her finger.

"Well, giving up coffee for a start."

She smiled, laughing a little. He loved it when she smiled. She seemed to be able to so rarely these days.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

Jim sighed, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. She knew him too well!

For a moment, he considered whether or not to just lie and say that he was thinking about something else. But he knew it would have been a wasted effort. Romerez had kindly filled her in on all of the details of the hostage situation and Barbra had been fussing over him non-stop since he had arrived home!

Taking in a deep breath, Jim admitted defeat.

"It was like nothing I'd ever seen, Barb." he mumbled quietly, thinking back to the few terrifying minutes at Archym Asylum where he'd thought that he would never be able to see her and the kinds again. "It was like he knew everything about me, just by _looking_ at me. As if he could see what I was thinking. Like there was nothing going on inside his head but madness. I can't understand it. He was....he was so...."

Words failed him.  
There was simply no way to describe the man who had held him hostage only a few hours ago. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see it perfectly. That smile. Bearing down on him, stripping him down to nothing.

"Even Batman seemed different around him. He's _never_ looked at me like that before, Barbra. He just stood there..."

He picked up his coffee mug and took another calming sip, trying his best not to let Barabra see him wince.

"It wasn't your fault, Jim. You couldn't have saved them no matter what you did."

Jim looked up at Barbra, putting down his coffee. She looked at him again with that same expression of both pity and worry.

Jim hated that expression, hated making her feel the way she did. It seemed that it was the only one he could _ever_ get her to make these days. And she shouldn't have to worry. She shouldn't have to keep staying up all night alone, wondering whether or not this would be the day that her husband didn't come home.  
He let go of her hand, standing up from the coffee table and moving over towards her. She looked up at him, the expression turning softer as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

"I'm sorry, Barb." he sighed, stroking her cheek with his fingers.

She looked up at him, a gentle smile on her face. But there was sadness in the corner of her eyes.

"I know, Jim. It's my own fault for having married the one man in the whole of Gotham who thinks he can save the world."

He laughed, pulling her to her feet and embracing her in a tight hug.  
She laughed too, though they both knew that she was right. He was married to the force. He always had been.

"Not the _only_ one." Jim smiled, holding her close. "I guess you'll end up leaving me for the Batman someday. He's got a better car."

They pulled apart, both laughing gently. Jim beamed when he saw Barbra's face light up a little, ignoring the stinging pain in his mouth. How long had it been since they'd done this? Just been normal people?

"There's only one man for me, Jim." Barbra smiled, reaching up a hand to stroke his cheek. "A man with a heroic sense of valour, dignity, the heart of a lion..."

She laughed.

"...and a big moustache."

Jim chuckled, wrapping his fingers around her hand against his cheek. She sighed happily, looking over into his eyes.

"I love you, Barb." he whispered softly. "You know that?"

Barbra nodded, smiling. Jim wrapped an arm around her frail shoulders and drew her into him, feeling all of the built-up tension in his body leaving him as he leant in to kiss her.

"Dad?"

They pulled apart. Barbra smiled softly and smoothing down her dress, flushing like a schoolgirl. Jim looked over to the threshold, beaming when he saw Jim Junior standing in the doorway, rubbing at his eyes sleepily.

"Hey, JJ." Jim smiled, moving over to give his son a one-armed hug. "You should be in bed, big guy. It's pretty late."

Jim Junior shrugged, sniffing and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Jim felt a little twinge of sadness pull at his heart. Since he had been caught in the middle of the incident with the Scarecrow, the boy had had trouble getting to sleep. The poor boy was still having nightmares.

"I'm not tired." the boy replied, yawning.

Jim smiled softly, looking over towards Barbra. She was emptying the coffee mugs into the sink, the gentle smile on her lips still evident. Jim felt a tug on his collar and looked back down towards his son. He reached up a small hand to touch the bandage on Jim's neck.

"What happened, daddy? You get hurt?"

Jim tried his very best not to wince at the touch. He sighed, trying to keep the smile on his face. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, ruffling his hair.

"Just cut myself shaving." he smirked, pointing at himself. "You know how clumsy your old man is, JJ."

Jim Junior smiled sleepily, rubbing at his cheek. Jim couldn't help but laugh to himself gently. Standing back up, he reached down and picked the boy up under his arms, propping him on his shoulder.

"Now," Jim smiled. "I know it's late, but since today's a special day, how about I let you watch some TV for a bit, huh?"

The boy's face perked up, instantly awake at the promise of television. His smile broadened, holding on to his father's shoulders as they walked through to the living room.

"I can?"

Jim nodded, raising a finger at the boy.

"But _only_ for a little while. It's still a school night."

Jim Junior smirked, rolling his eyes.

"_Da-ad_!"

Laughing, Jim gently dropped the boy onto the sofa, who laughed and fell back into the cushions. Jim handed him the remote, waving it at him in mock seriousness before he passed it over.

"None of that _'Most Haunted'_ stuff, alright? You know what that does to you."

Barbra came to stand beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder, her smile still beautiful in the dim light. Jim rested a hand round her shoulder's and planted a kiss on her cheek. He never did notice just how beautiful she really was until he realised that he might not see her again.

"Why's today special, daddy?" Jim Junior asked, hurriedly flicking between TV channels.

Jim looked over at his wife and son.  
His mouth was stinging painfully, but he didn't care. He couldn't stop smiling!

"Because tonight, Daddy's come home." he replied, smiling.

Sitting himself down on the sofa beside his son and pulling Barbra closely to him, Jim forgot all about The Joker. About Batman. About the missing patients. About Gotham, even!

But for how much longer would it last?

* * *

Newcomer twitched, snatching the clown mask away from the windowsill when somebody reached for it.

He didn't like all of these people! There were too many of them and they were all babbling and muttering to themselves, and touching the bosses stuff!

He didn't trust these new angels.

Newcomer didn't get along very well with people and the sudden flush of activity made him feel nervous. He was getting hungry. Maybe soon he'd go get something to eat? The boss was beginning to let him go outside now, as long as he didn't wear his mask and only went out at night. And he had to be _extra specially_ careful that he didn't do something stupid. But Newcomer was always careful. He would never do anything to get the boss in trouble. No, he wouldn't! Never!

Some of the new angels hadn't come back.

The boss had been in the room for hours, coming in and out again every so often to get a new angel. There was a lot of blood on him, but he didn't seem to mind.

He had called it an 'initiation'. Boss said that he needed to check to see if these people really _were_ angels. He said he was just going to look inside for a little bit to check to see if he could see the glowing lights.  
That was what he had called a soul. Only the good angels had the souls. He said that they were like beautiful little white butterflies, all flapping their wings together at the same time, in harmony with the beat of their hearts.

So the boss had gone looking for the butterflies. For the souls.

If the boss _didn't_ find the beautiful lights, then he would know that some of the 'angels' were just big, fat, faking liars! Then Newcomer would know if they were just trying to get to the boss – to hurt him! To try and bring down the head angel from the inside! But they couldn't! They couldn't hurt their saviour! He wouldn't let them!  
The bad ones were trying to pass themselves off as angels and get inside their heads. But Newcomer was wise to their act and so was the boss. That was why some of the angels hadn't come back out. The boss had banished them away! Made them fly back into the scummy darkness from which they came!

Some of them had passed the test, though. They were all sleeping right now. They were very tired.

Newcomer swallowed the lump inside his throat, rubbing his forehead. He was too hot. And he didn't like all the people. They kept crowding together like bundles of little sheep and they all seemed to look everywhere at once. Probably some of the bad angels spying on him!

He held on to the clown mask tightly.  
It was the only thing that he owned and he wasn't going to let any filthy imposter angels go touching it with their mucky hands!

The boss had given it to him. He couldn't remember when. And he wore it whenever he could!  
It was too hot and stuffy inside the mask, but it was safe. He liked who he got to be when he wore the mask. Like he was in a play and he had to wear a costume. And he had to be a convincing character! His performance had to be flawless!

That's why he'd been extra careful when he took Harry back to Gladstone Park. He'd taken his time driving there, concentrating very hard on not looking at all of the little flashing lights and the pretty reflections on the windows. And he'd been extra, _extra _careful when he handed Harry over. He'd even worn gloves and everything! He didn't want anything left behind that could get back to the boss.

So, he'd left Harry sitting there on one of the park benches. He had wanted to stay and sit in the park, but the boss had said he would need to be quick. He needed to get out of there before the bad man came to take him away. Back to the White Room.

He shuddered just thinking about it.

Going back to the White Rooms to save the new angels had been scary! And it had been even scarier when the big, ugly Batman had turned up! The stupid bat had been trying to stop them from saving the angels! He wanted to keep all of them there, locked in the White Rooms so they couldn't fly anymore!  
Why was the big demon so angry with the angels? Was he one of the bad angels that the boss had been talking about? One of the ones that fell from the grace of God and had their wings ripped off because they were bad. Was that it? Could an angel even _go_ bad?

_He_ hadn't gone bad....

The door swung open and banged against the wall loudly. They all jumped.

The boss stood in the doorway, smiling. He was always smiling. He was a very happy man.  
There was lots of blood on him. It looked like his skin was turning red underneath it all, sort of like the colour of red wine. Some of it was even on his face.

"We have _another_ soldier, my friends." he beamed, motioning to a big fat man behind him, who was lying on the floor. "He's kinda tired, so uh...just rest him up alongside the others, would ya? Just over there. Yeah."

With a mighty heave, the boss pulled the fat man into the room by the collar of his shirt. It had a lot of blood on it too. Red and white were very pretty when they mixed together.

Newcomer moved towards the fat man, along with his two comrades and slowly, they dragged the big man into the corner of the room, where there were already a few people lying together in a heap. They were resting. It was a very tiring thing, finding an angel's soul.  
One had already woken up, but then he threw up all over the place and went back to sleep again. Newcomer wrinkled his nose at the smell as they propped the big man up against the wall. He groaned and slumped over himself, falling fast asleep just like the others.

_What a big man!_ He thought. _He must need some very big wings. Did it hurt when Batman tore them out?_

For a moment, Newcomer wondered why he and his other four 'friends' hadn't needed to have the 'initiation', like the rest of the people from the White Room's. Why the boss hadn't asked _them_ to prove that they were angels.  
It was probably because the boss had known straight away just how good and pure and shining they were! He could probably see the lights inside them without needing to look inside. Their little white sparkling butterflies would be so brilliant and shining that he would know instantly what they were.

Newcomer sniffed, moving back towards his place in the corner. He lifted up the corner of his t-shirt, looking down at his stomach. He couldn't see any glowing, white little butterflies. But maybe you couldn't see your own soul? He was pretty sure that he had one...

He wondered what the bosses soul looked like. He bet it was the biggest and brightest of them all!

"Next!" the boss grunted, waving a hand at the crowds scattered about the room.

For a moment, nobody moved.  
It was because they were _scared_! Big scared liars! If they really _were _angels, then they'd follow the boss as quick as they could so that they could prove to him just how shining and bright they were!

"Come on!" the boss barked. He sounded annoyed. "Jesus, I haven't got all day! You want your wings back, or what?"

From out of the crowd, somebody stood up. Newcomer looked down at the floor, biting at his lip.  
It was a lady. A very pretty lady.  
He didn't like pretty ladies, they made him nervous. He didn't know what to do when he saw them. Had she been there this whole time? He didn't remember seeing her from the White Rooms.

Suddenly, the boss didn't look so angry. He licked his lips and pushed some hair away from his face.

He was smiling again. The boss was always smiling.

"Well _hello_ there." he smiled as the pretty angel walked over towards him, holding out a hand for her. "What's a beautiful thing like you doing in _my _town, huh?"

The pretty angel looked down at the floor. She didn't take his hand.  
Newcomer twitched, looking over at the pretty black hair that fell around her shoulders. It was shiny. Very shiny! Did the pretty angels have the white butterflies in their hair? Was _that _the soul he was seeing?

The boss reached out and grabbed the pretty angel's wrist, tugging her towards the door. She didn't fight him. Because she wasn't a faker. She was a _real _angel.

"Follow me, sweety." he heard the boss saying as he pulled her down the corridor. "Let's go take a look inside you, shall we?"

* * *

**Author's Note's : Well, you can tell what _he _has in mind, can't you? Aww, looks like Newcomer's got a bit of a crush. Or at least, he will if she survives the intitiation...**

**Thought I'd write a bit about Jim's home life. He's probably having quite a few problems because he's such a workaholic. And I always thought that Jim Juniour was a really cute little kid! **

**Happy New Year, everyone!  
Eat, drink and be merry - for tomorrow, we are hungover!**


	7. Raymond Naylor

**Worst Fear - a Joker Story **

**Meeoko **

**Summary : They say the night is darkest before the dawn. But I like the dark - I like it a lot! That's why I built an army. An army of fallen angels. Joker-focused fic. Begins just before The Dark Knight. Rated M.**

**Author's Note's : Sorry about the long wait, guys. Blame Bob (my laptop). He died a death and I had to do a Master Reboot. I lost a load of stuff and didn't have Internet access for two weeks. Anyway, hope the chapter makes up for it.**

* * *

Raymond Naylor felt a surge f both anger and terror as his head hit the concrete. This was supposed to have been routine. Routine and easy. But it hadn't been.

"What the_ fuck_ is going on?" he spat, rolling over onto his back. "Wha'dda ya want?"

His chest hurt. The men in the clown masks had been less than gentle with him when they'd found him snooping in the back alley, and he wasn't getting any younger. But his days in the Korean War had taught him a few things and he quickly rolled up onto his knees. If you let them get you down, you would almost certainly die. And Raymond knew_ exactly_ what to expect from these people.

The two men in masks gave him no answer. One was tall and lanky, the other broad and bulky. They offered no response to his questions. They just stood there, watching him. As if they were waiting for something. It sent a chill through Raymond's bones. The mindless way they each just stood there, staring down at him like confused children. It was unnerving.

Taking the opportunity to look around, Raymond rose to his feet and tried to look around for an exit. There was none. Only the way he had come in, and that was blocked by the men in clown masks. It looked like he was in an old multi-story car park, but he guessed it to be the basement of the apartment block instead. There were no cars now. And it was dark – incredibly dark.  
He could barely see a thing! Shadows moved in between the pillars of the structure, flickering backwards and forwards into the gloom. As if there was someone hiding there. Squinting his eyes, Raymond tried to focus into the gloom.

"What do you want?" he called again into the darkness. "What have I done?"

Raymond's eyes began to adjust to the darkness. He could just about make out two watery blobs of paint against the concrete. But when he blinked, they vanished. He looked around in the darkness, feeling a lump forming in his throat. Where had they gone? Had he imagined them? Or was it something else entirely? Was it...

Something jerked him backwards.

Raymond's back rammed into something soft and he felt the pressure of an arm grip around his neck. He tried to struggle free of the grasp, jerking around like an animal caught in a cage. But then something made him stop dead. The sharp, cool tip of something metallic pressed into his neck, just below his chin.

A knife.

"Looking for _me_?"

A husky voice whispered in his ear, yanking Raymond back by the throat harshly. The steel tip of the knife dug into the flesh and Raymond took in a sharp breath. He knew he shouldn't have come. He was just trying to get a lead. Just following things up. It had never meant to turn into this...

"W-wha'dda you want, huh?" he managed to speak through the tightening grip.

He received no reply. Raymond felt the tip of the knife slither a little higher up his neck. The faceless clown men stared over at him in silence, their emotionless masks never blinking. It was easier to hide behind face paint and not one of them moved as they looked down at him. They almost looked bored!

"I-I ain't got no business here." Raymond stuttered, feeling beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "It's just...just routine. I-I don't want any trouble."

Raymond cursed himself for letting his voice waver. But he couldn't help it! The arm around his throat tightened severely, making Raymond's eyes water. He opened his mouth to take in any air that he could as the grip began to get tighter and tighter.

"_Routine_." a husky voice whispered in his ear. "_Plans_. Bit of a flawed system to put your faith in, dont'cha think, Pops?"

The grip tightened until Raymond's air supply was almost cut off. He gasped up lungfuls of air, watching as little dark spots danced in front of his eyes. The hand holding the knife moved away from Raymond's throat to pull back the side of his jacket. Raymond's heart clenched when his Gotham Police Department badge flashed in the darkness. The men had taken his gun already.

Now Raymond felt himself begin to panic. He knew what was going to happen. He knew what this guy was capable of.

"Don't you think you're a bit...._old _for the GPD?" the voice asked, sounding strained as it choked the life out of Raymond.

"_Ah-_accident." Raymond choked as the masked clowns began to blur into one. "_Accident._"

The grip around his neck lessened slightly and Raymond took in as big a lungful of air as he could, feeling the sharp cold air pierce his throat. The darkened voice tittered in his ear.

"Accidents, huh?"

Raymond spluttered as he was spun around in the darkness, the sharpened tip of the knife coming to rest on his cheek. A hand reached up and grabbed him harshly by the face, pressing him up against the blade. But it wasn't the strangling arm that took Raymond's breath away right then.

No.  
Staring down at him, with his murderous black eyes shining in the darkness and a painted smile was the man that he feared he would encounter. The sick maniac that had kidnapped almost all of Archym Asylum.

The Joker.

"Ya know," he mused, his tongue darting out to lick at the sides of his mouth. "it's funny you should mention accidents."

"I-I didn't...I won't..." Raymond panted, desperate to get away. He was in over his head.

"I was in an accident once." The Joker continued, ignoring Raymond completely. "It's how I got these scars."

Raymond looked up at the dark arches of black staring down at him. He was covered in brown, crusted blood. Not only was it on his arms and hands, but on his face and in his hair. It flaked off as he moved, falling down onto the concrete floor beneath. Raymond let out a weak noise when he saw that it was on the man's lips. The sick bastard had used blood as lipstick!

"When I was a kid," The Joker began, his voic a dark flat tone. "there was this girl I liked. Helen, her name was. Pretty, smart, quiet. But - you know what kids are like these days, right? She was into all this...dark and _gloomy_ crap. Satan, Ozzy, bats....you name it. She loved it!"

Raymond heard The Joker almost spit the word 'bats' as he bore down on him. He was smiling. Licking at his lips, he continued.

"She was in this....cult. Some crappy little circle'a kids who think they can see Satan. She didn't do _anything_ without their approval. Anyway, to prove myself, uh, _worthy...._to these people, I had to kiss her. With a razor blade. In my mouth."

He laughed. The short shock wave pushed the knife tip closer to the corner of Raymond's mouth and he felt warmth drip down his cheek. Blood had been drawn. He winced, but The Joker didn't seem to notice, laughing like a howling menace in the darkness.

"Sick little bastards thought it was a show of love!" he barked, laughing. "I'm in agony,_ obviously_. But anything for her. Only, guess what happens? Turns out little Helen liked _me_ too. She kissed me back....and ended up _swallowing_ the damn thing!"

The laughter stopped dead. The Joker looked down at Raymond, who felt himself quivering. The knife pressed slowly deeper into the flesh at his mouth. His breathing was quick and short. He began to panic.

"So, she dies. Obviously. I get my face cut up and me and the rest'a the little '_Satan-Soldiers'_ end up in prison for twelve years for manslaughter."

Raymond felt his heart beating too fast. His chest began to heave and he felt a wave of pain shooting up his arm. The Joker's blackened eyes glared down at him from the shadows, making him look like Satan incarnate.

"Accidents are funny things, Old Man. In fact, I think you're about to have one."

* * *

Newcomer didn't quite understand what was going on.

The boss had finally finished testing all of the angels, and they had finally woken up. Then the fat, old man was walking around the place, sniffing and prodding. So, he'd taken him to the boss. The boss knew just what to do with nosey old men. He always knew what to do.

But now there was such a din of movement and chaos, that he didn't know where to look! The boss had ushered them down into the big dark basement of the apartment building, telling them that he wanted them all to send out a special message to . And now they were all very confused, rushing around like little birds. And nobody knew what to do with the big black masks they held either. The boss had given one to each of them.

But most of the new angels didn't like the dark. It scared them. Angels and darkness never went very well together.

So a lot of the angels were all very scared, twitching and mumbling and bumping into each other in the shadows. He thought he had heard somebody breaking something too. Newcomer frowned, a little confused. He'd never had any fear of the darkness before. No, he was scared of the White Rooms. Not the dark.

If he was in the darkness, then the Shadow Men couldn't find him.

It was all very silly of them, really. Angels shouldn't be afraid of the dark. No! They should fight against it and use their brilliant white souls to flush away all of the bad things hiding inside it. But he guessed it was because the angels were all very new to their new powers. They probably hadn't known that they were angels until a few hours ago! It all must have been very confusing.

"Alright, alright! _Hey_!" he could hear the boss shouting over the confusion. "Jesus! It's like a goddamn _farm_ in here!"

Newcomer chuckled to himself. He imagined a bunch of sheep and chickens all dressed with little golden halo's and white wings!

"Hey! Hey!" The boss sounded angry. "_SHUT UP_!"

Quiet fell over the darkened room. Still the angels shivered and twitched beside Newcomer, but none of them dared speak. Not now, when the head angel was talking.

"Good."

Something sparked above them and a flash of light suddenly lit up the empty room, making the angel's suddenly reach to cover their eyes. Newcomer winced. He preferred the dark.

"_Fine_! Since you're all gonna be such freakin' cry-babies about this...." the boss sighed, looking very annoyed.

He was standing near the bottom of the stairs that led back up to the apartments, hand still poised on the light switch. He was still covered in blood, though he didn't look like he minded. Newcomer wasn't sure, but it looked like the boss had used some of the blood as lipstick. He must have run out. It was a little weird seeing the boss without his nice purple jacket on. But he wouldn't want to ruin the pretty velvet with blood, would he? Newcomer wished that he had a nice purple suit.

The boss rubbed at his eyes irritably and let out a breath of air. Newcomer shook his head slowly, tittering to himself. The new angels would have to be more careful. Everyone knew just how much the boss hated cry-babies.

"You're all here today" the boss began "to celebrate your uh....your newfound freedom! Being a guy of simple tastes, I thought you all might want to..."

The boss licked his lips, chewing on the bottom one. The boss did that a lot.

"...._bear witness _to the beginning of a new world. _My_ new world."

They stared at him in silence. Waiting. Watching.

"One that you will_ all_ help to create." the boss waved his hands and Newcomer could almost see the words as he spoke them! "A world...._without_ the scummy underbelly of the mob, _hoarding_ away their money and _scheming_ like little rats! A world _without_ the snooty nose of the GPD poking and prodding into our business. A world, my friends....._without_ Batman."

The angel's all began to talk excitedly at once, smiles quickly replacing the looks of nervousness. They twittered to themselves, all exchanging wide-eyed looks and giggling. Newcomer too felt their excitement buzzing inside his chest. What a pretty world it would be! Without all the rats and shadows in the darkness! Without all of the bad, bad people! A world that was always full of bright, shiny lights! Lights that _they_ would all make!

When the boss held up his hand for quiet, it came more swiftly this time. They all wanted to hear what the boss was going to say.

"So..." he continued, though this time he didn't smile. "I thought, that to christen the start of this, uh....this '_new world_', - we'd _start_ by tearing down the place that kept you all in cages."

He jumped off the stairs, clearing four in one jump and began to walk through the dingy basement. It was a very big room, and the boss walked all the way to the opposite end before stopping. Newcomer and the rest of the angel's followed, making sure that he was among those in the front row. He was the oldest angel, other than the boss himself. So he needed to see it first.  
From behind a bunch of old boxes, the boss pulled out an old cabinet on tiny wheels, which squeaked loudly in the empty basement. There was a television on top of it, crackly static making little fizzy noises. Newcomer opened his mouth a little, expectant and excited. He had always liked televisions, and he stared avidly at the dancing little specks of black and white. He didn't get to watch the television very often.

The boss pulled the little television forward out into the open, so that all of the angels could see it. They all crowded around it in dead silence, all eyes glued to the dancing static. They all wanted to see what was going on. Newcomer managed to pull his eyes away from the pretty lights for a moment to look at his head angel. Odd. He wasn't smiling. But the boss _always _smiled.

But Newcomer's attention was quickly grabbed by the entrancing television once again when the boss pressed a button on the side and a picture suddenly exploded onto the screen. Newcomer felt a little sad for a moment without the dancing dots, but his attention perked right up again when he saw what it was. It was a picture of the bad place that he and the boss had gone to. Where they had saved the other angels. Archym.

A shiver of apprehension went through the other angels as they saw the picture on the screen and some of them backed away a few steps, crossing themselves. That was a silly thing to do. It was just a picture. Newcomer wondered if his beautiful angel was still scared of the Archym place. He didn't think so. Her light was too strong for that. Even the boss had thought so. The boss had liked her very much.  
Reaching behind him to pull something out of his pocket, the boss never once looked out at them. He didn't talk for a while, either. Just stared at the what he was holding. There was still no smile. Still no magic.

Newcomer frowned a little, trying to remember something. Maybe the boss was having one of his 'episodes' again. Newcomer had heard him call it that once before, but then he'd hit Newcomer over the head and told him not to be such a nosey bastard. Or at least, he thought that it had happened that way. He tried not to remember too much these days. It hurt his head and the voices always told him that he was just being stupid.

The head angel held a little remote in his hand, just like the magic one that had let him talk all over Gotham. It had a nice big shiny button in the middle of it. The boss flicked a little switch on the side, showing the tiniest hint of a smile as his thumb pressed down onto a button. Newcomer smiled with him – the boss should _always_ be smiling. When he smiled, only good things happened.

The tiny smile faded as the arch angel pressed his thumb down onto the big red button.

"Bye bye Archym."

* * *

"He blew it up!" Jim screamed, slamming his hand down on the table "There's nothing left! The sick son of a bitch blew it to high hell!"

The Batman looked at him sombrely, standing against the blaring light of the bat-signal. Jim knew he should calm down, but he couldn't. The image of thousands of burning Joker cards flying in the wind stuck in his mind. It was hard to forget.

"A hundred dead! Sixty nine injured! The Asylum in rubble! No alternative facilities for the surviving patients! The goddamn list goes on!"

Jim threw his arms in the air, furious. How could he have missed it? Why hadn't he left the building evacuated for another day? How could he have missed them? How had he been so _stupid_? The husky voice of the Batman brought Jim back to earth.

"There's a match on the DNA traces found on the Joker card."

Jim perked up, looking expectantly over at the looming shadow.

"Do we have an ID?"

But Jim's spirits went right back down into the shadowy depths when the Dark Knight shook his head.

"Matches - but nothing to put them to."

Jim shook his head, confused. It had been such a long day, he could barely concentrate.

"What do you mean?" he asked the Bat, although he didn't expect much of an answer. At least, nothing concrete that they could use.

"The Joker." Batman grumbled in reply. "DNA matches in six asylums across the country, twelve in high security jails, nineteen in county and forty-seven in unsolved cold cases. But the records have gone. No details. No name. Nobody to put to the face."

Jim sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. Obviously, The Joker was one step ahead of them yet again.

"He must have gotten to the records first. That sick son of a bitch knew what he was-"

The fire door burst open, Romerez standing in the doorway, panting.

"Gordon, you've gotta see this!"

She didn't even wait for a reply before she bolted back down the stairs again and Jim quickly followed, anxiousness tearing at his heart strings. He could hear the Batman following him closely, on silent feet. Barging into the main office, Jim stopped dead when he saw his entire division staring up at the tv screen bolted to the wall. There, low and behold – was The Joker.

"_...to give my new friend the chance to make things right. Seeing as his performance at the asylum was, uh....was disappointing at best – I think that it's time we _rescheduled_."_

Jim felt himself frozen to the stop, head arching upwards like every other officer in the building. He could see it. That same, darkened, menacing smile looking down on him from the blurred lens of a video camera. Only now, it was no longer smiling. He was covered in what appeared to be dried blood. It was matted into his hair, on his cheeks and Jim was almost certain that he had used it as.....as lipstick!

But the thing that really froze Jim to the core more than anything was the scene behind the video camera. As The Joker made his demands to the camera, it was almost impossible to ignore the thirty odd people standing behind him, each wearing the white uniforms of Archym Asylum. But most disturbing of all was that each and every one of the escaped patients was wearing a mask, obscuring their faces. Batman masks!

"_Of course I don't expect much cooperation from the GPD, but then, where would the fun be without them? I'm a man of simple pleasures, so I'll make my demands straight..."_

The Joker's voice grew deep and angry as the video camera refocused onto his face. Lines set into his forehead as he frowned and for a moment, Jim thought that he was looking at Satan incarnate!

"_I. Want. The Batman. Midnight tonight, Greater City Avenue, Apartment 43."_

Jim hurriedly scribbled the address down onto a piece of paper and he suspected that Batman was doing much the same.

"_Ya see Gotham, Batsy has something that belongs to my friends here – and they want it back. Oh, and I, uh, I suggest that he doesn't disappoint me this time. It'd be a real shame to have Gotham's saviour strung up over central bridge now, wouldn't it?" _

The Joker looked down at the camera, the tiniest smile twitching at his lips. But it didn't get any further. He licked his lips, shaking his head.

"_After all....I have thirty very angry people here who're just DYING to get their hands on him!"_

The camera focused in on the patients in Batman masks. A white blood-stained hand moved to cover the camera lens and the screen went black.

* * *

He slammed the door shut behind him, making the walls quake under the force of the impact. Striding into the empty room, The Joker took a seat on the bloodied table, rubbing at his eyes. There were still slabs and scraps of dried skin plastered to his makeshift operating table and he looked at them disdainfully.

Goddamnit! He _hated _it when this happened!

"Come on, kid." he mumbled. "You know this _probably_ isn't gonna end all that well. Well – for _you_, at least. I mean, _really_....how many times have we had this discussion? And, uh....how many times have I won?"

This was getting ridiculous!Not even the fat cop had helped to get him out of his slump! The selfish fat bastard went and had a heart attack before he even got a _chance_ to have a bit of fun with him!

He had to calm down. He had to start taking things less seriously. Maybe if he was lucky, this one would only last a couple of hours.

Luckily, the boys had learnt now. He'd sure as hell killed enough of them in a rage to start getting the message through! He had called it one of his 'episodes'. At least they'd understand that! Now they knew not to bother him whenever the urge took. Well, no. It wasn't an _urge _per-say. He didn't know _what_ the hell it was!

Humanity. Yes, probably. Sick, twisted, weak and feeble _humanity_! How he hated it! Humanity. Yes. Yes, probably humanity. But he wouldn't let it get through. Oh no. _No, no, no!_

"A lot." he mumbled to himself. "I've won...._a lot_. Jesus, you'd think you'd have somethin' _better_ to do with all your precious time..."

He felt the rage building slowly, like acid eating away at his insides. Just like Marty. Maybe he _should_ do that to himself. At least then he wouldn't have to listen to this self-righteous, weak, scheming little moron!

He knew the bout would soon pass. It always did. Usually, he managed to subdue the '_humanity_' with a little anarchy, or some good old-fashioned senseless violence. But it was difficult. He'd already gone and kicked the shit out of one of his new recruits for turning the volume on the TV down! Now he was one short and he had to get blood out of a white-washed wall! He couldn't waste any more because of this! And he couldn't just go outside and let a few people die, either. He had something in place! He couldn't jeopardise it all now for the sake of a little setback!

"Ya couldn't just let me be, could'ya?" he mumbled angrily. "Couldn't just like me _be_!"

A thought sprung to mind. This was just like that situation back in Starholm. When he'd gotten just a little too.....'humane'. Spent three days in isolation trying to calm himself down after he'd stabbed a nurse in the eye with a biro. Hell, he'd even started thinking about the consequences of what he'd done! _Pathetic_! Goddamn pathetic! It was like fuckin' '_Oprah'!_

But he'd gotten it under control. He always did. Eventually.

Willing himself into movement, The Joker jumped down from the table and strode over to the seven bodies piled up against the wall. They were the ones who hadn't made it. The ones that had been too soft and too human to have made it. And now, the fat bloated corpse of the cop.

"Can't even have a nice quiet evening to myself, can I?" he grunted angrily. "_No_, no, no. Not with _you_. Ya couldn't have just taken a night class or somthin' could ya? Oh no! No _you _had ta' go and save a bunch'a ungrateful, snot-nosed little retards, didn't ya? And _angels_! Why'd ya _have_ to go and say 'angels'?"

Feeling anger well up inside him, The Joker lashed out at them, ignoring the stiff pain in his healing leg as he kicked the corpses over and over again. He stabbed at them with the scalpel from the table, laughing in rage as he did. But even the blood did nothing to calm him. It usually satisfied the animal part inside of him, but not now. Not this time.

"Stupid!" he chanted, with each thrust of the blade. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!"

Screaming in rage at the uselessness of his efforts, he threw the scalpel behind him with all his might, hearing it clatter to the ground noisily. For a moment, he just stared down at the small trickle of pooling blood that seeped out from the corpses, hating and hating the stupid little signs that pointed back to him. Always back and forth, back and forth! Like a fucking yoyo! There was never an 'in between'. Never had been, never would be. Not with this stupid kid, anyway!

"Godamnit, shut up!" he roared, grabbing at his hair. "I'm getting'_ tired_ of this, kid! I'm _not_ gonna keep doin' this with you! I'm not getting' any younger, ya know!"

There was no '_we_' any more! Goddamnit, he'd been telling himself that for years! Why couldn't he get that through his head? Now, it was only '_him_'. But this bastard! This weak, feeble, _human _little bastard wouldn't quit! Sure, it was easier to control now. He'd slowly gained control over it in the past years and most of the time, he didn't have to listen to it for months on end! But control was _so_ much harder to decide when it was split. Or was it more than that? He didn't know. But it was always a struggle whenever _he_ managed to slip through one of the cracks.

"You lost, kid!" he growled at the seeping puddle in front of him. "It ain't nice and it ain't pretty – but it's the truth! Ya _couldn't_ rise to the challenge and ya ended up paying the price! _Jesus_! What a little whiner! I'd love to see you go up against the Bat!"

The Joker caught sight of himself in the little pool of blood pooling at his feet and he bent down on his haunches, looking into it for a moment. He tried to look for him at first, to see where he was hiding. But the longer he looked, the more he simply stared back at himself. _Him. _Not the kid. The little nagging voices of reason slowly began to dim back into the shadows and gradually, it became a little easier to hear himself again.

Slowly, he took in a deep breath. He closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over them as he did so. But there was just blackness. Nothing else. No noise, no faces, no screaming and whining. He felt a smile spreading over his face.

"You _see_?" he panted, slowly. "That...that is why I will _always_...be the victor. _Always!_ Nature calls for the higher predators, kid. And I...._I_ am a predator."

Opening his eyes again, The Joker looked down at the pool of blood. He cupped some of it in between his hands and watched the sticky life trickle slowly through his fingers. He smiled, slowly at first. But when he realised that he had peace and quiet, it began to grow.

"No use fighting nature, kid." he smirked. "No use fighting gravity. It's _all _relative. All adds up. Karma. You should'a realised that a long time ago."

The last of the oozing blood fell from between his fingers and he soon realised that he was laughing. Not loudly or hysterically, but enough. Enough to show that he had been the victor. To show that snot-nosed little shit who was really on top. And _he_ was on top.

He always was.

Rising back onto his feet, The Joker walked back towards the door, wiping his bloodied hands on his trousers as he did so. Now that that was over and done with, he could get back to work. Things might be a little....slower, now that he had to be more careful. But already he could feel that tonight was going to go down well. Oh yes. Very well indeed. At least now, he wouldn't have to sacrifice another one of his 'angels'.

_The kid had a point though_, he admitted to himself_. Why angels of all things? They're more like fucking hamsters!_

He clutched at his side as he laughed, unable to hold back much more. He had to stop doing this to himself, or he'd bust a gut. But Jesus, that was funny! An army of hamsters! He giggled to himself as he pushed open the door, slumping outside as the laughter gripped at his stomach. Pushing some of his hair back into place, he tried to steady himself. He shouldn't excite himself too much, or else he'd end up missing the fireworks.

Midnight was still hours away and he needed a pick-me-up. Swaying down the hallway, The Joker headed towards the room where his army or angels (or was it hamsters?) lay in wait. Maybe he'd go and find himself that black haired girl again....

* * *

**Author's Note's : Well! Let's see if you guys can guess what I've just done with The Joker there. I won't be ruining it, but it'll be interesting to see what you come up with. And a duel with Batsy! It's about time The Joker got to play!**


	8. Midnight

**Worst Fear - a Joker Story **

**Meeoko **

**Summary : They say the night is darkest before the dawn. But I like the dark - I like it a lot! That's why I built an army. An army of fallen angels. Joker-focused fic. Begins just before The Dark Knight. Rated M.**

**Author's Note's : Some good guesses about the Joker's 'episode' in the last chapter. Some were right, some were wrong. But congratulations to Zaika-Purr, who did guess right (I won't be saying the answer here. You just have to figure it out for yourself).**

_**

* * *

**_

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

_That leaky facet had driven him insane at first. But now, he found that he liked the soothing sound._

_He concentrated on the individual drops at they fell into the basin above him, arching his back and stretching against the cold bathroom tiles. He could smell something. Paint. Like a new coat in a new house._

_This had been their new house. They should have just kept it a better secret, because he found them anyway._

_He had said he would, all those years ago._

_The blood seeped slowly down the walls, though he barely paid it any attention. Sighing, he rubbed at the back of his head, dislodging some of the matted hair from the steamy tiles._

_She'd been in the shower when he had come in, although he'd been nothing but gentlemanly.  
But either way, it hadn't been a pleasant death._

_Then again, that was how he had wanted it to be anyway – unpleasant._

_Her husband had sat there, watching. Unable to do anything about it. It had been so easy. Tears had streamed down his face as he watched her die. It had been all too hilarious._

_He had wanted him to see her die. He had wanted him to see everything._

_She hadn't screamed. Perhaps she had been prepared for it. Or perhaps she just had more balls than the husband did.  
Instead, she had looked over at her husband and mouthed the words 'I love you' as he had come towards her with the knife._

_But he had been quick. He spotted the gesture. That was her biggest mistake. That had only drawn out her death longer._

_So, as she had asked - he made it more painful. But of course he would make it more painful! That's just what he did! That was the whole point! It wasn't supposed to have been easy!_

_Revenge was a dish best served bloody._

_"Blood for blood, Grady." he had said. "Blood for blood."_

_He had cut her, slowly. He could still see her lying barely a few feet away from him, lifeless and growing cold on the stone floor. She had been a pretty thing. It was a shame she had to die the way she did._

_He looked over to the husband, Grady. He too, now dead._

_After he had smeared the wife's last words over the bathroom tiles with big red heart, Grady hadn't been able to take much more of it._

_It was funny, really. Grady didn't look nearly as menacing now as he once did. He had aged, just like the rest of them. He had settled down and married. But that was no excuse. No. No excuse for what he had done._

_But this time, he hadn't taken his time. Not like he had with the wife._

_What was the point? He had wanted Grady to see her die. And now he'd done it! He'd wanted that sick bastard to repay everything he owed him! Blood, sweat and tears!  
He wanted him to know what it felt like to see someone die because of your actions. To see someone you loved bleed their final heartbeats across the floor._

_He had wanted Grady to suffer unimaginable pain. To feel it. To scream._

_But when it was done, he offered no challenge. Grady just gave up. Watching your wife be murdered and sliced open will probably do that to a man._

_So it had been easy instead just to snap the man's neck in half._

_Grady's cold and lifeless eyes looked up at him from the cold linoleum. He had fallen next to the remaining carcass of his wife. United, even in death._

_"Touching." he rolled his eyes sarcastically._

_He heard a scuffling noise in the hallway._

_He tensed, the tiles behind his back squeaking slightly in the humidity. For a moment, he did nothing. Simply listened. Then, from behind the frame of the doorway, he saw a pair of hazel eyes slowly look over at him._

_Realising his mistake, he chewed his bottom lip, letting out a sigh through his nose._

"God damnit." he breathed, chewing the insides of his mouth. "There's always complications!"

_Looking back out to the little rounded face in the doorway, he waved a hand._

_"Get outta here, kid. Nothin' to see here."_

_But the little face stayed where it was, transfixed. The little hazel eyes moved over towards the bodies, widening in both confusion and terror as they did so. He fought back the urge to sigh again, banging his head against the tiles behind him lightly._

_He hadn't known they had kids. He was still new at this, after all._

_With a grunt, he lifted himself up off the wet linoleum, grabbing the purple jacket that was slung over the bathtub.  
The little face winced slightly at the movement, but didn't move from the spot._

_He moved carefully, so that he didn't scare the child. The kid had seen more than enough already._

_"Hey." he looked over at the eyes, moving unconsciously in front of the two bodies. "Hey. What's uh, what's you name, kid?"_

_The little pair of eyes were cautious at first, but slowly, a little red-headed girl moved into the doorway, tightly clutching a teddy bear._

_He grunted, feeling annoyed with himself. The kid couldn't have been more than three years old!_

_"Do you have a name?" he asked again. "Yougotta have a name."_

_The little girl stared at her toes, moving the teddy bear to her mouth._

_"Libbit...." a muffled reply came. He assumed that meant 'Libby'._

_Rubbing at the back of his hair, he moved a little closer. But this time, the child stayed put._

_He smiled at her as gently as he could. He remembered just how fragile children could be. And even if he was....damaged. Like they'd said at Archym. At least he wasn't some twisted, sick child molester!_

_"Hi there." he smiled, bending down on his haunches next to the little girl. "My name's Joker."_

_She didn't respond._

_They had a kid! God damnit! It was always so much harder when they had kids!  
But Mommy and Daddy had it coming. There was no doubt of that. The kid would just have to....do something else!_

_As to what, he had no idea. He was no good with kids._

_He let out a breath of air slip between his lips and began to chew at the insides of his mouth._

_"Clown."_

He looked up. The hazel eyes were staring him full in the face.

_"Clown." she repeated, waving the teddy bear in his direction._

_He couldn't help but smile. Yeah. Now, he was the clown. He sure as hell looked the part!_

_He made a decision right then and there._

_"Come on, kid." he smiled. "Let's get you outta here." _

**_

* * *

_**

The clock showed a quarter to midnight. Jim's heart felt as if it was going to burst.

Straight after The Joker's broadcast on CNN, Jim hadn't quite known where to begin. It was easy with the incident at Archym to begin arranging things. (Well, not easy, but easier to decide). Now, he had a whole new ballgame to contend with. Of course, the GPD desperately wanted this guy behind bars and to recover the thirty-four patients that he had taken from the asylum. But now, this was the Batman's fight.

He had worked alongside the vigilante many times and had grown together as a unit. Jim did one thing, Batman did the other. But now, things were difficult. The Joker wasn't targeting anyone other than the vigilante himself.

It turned out that the allocated meeting place (Apartment 43, Greater City Avenue) was already entirely abandoned and scheduled for demolition within the month. In fact, the place had been abandoned for years. There'd been a brutal murder there over fifteen years ago and since then, nobody had dared to live in this part of town. Jim shook his head. This used to be the nice part of Gotham. But somehow, the scum of the streets had managed to damage even that.

That's what had Jim so on edge.

Ever since that incident with The Joker, he hadn't really been able to think clearly. He kept expecting to see him lurking in a dark corner. That red smile, staring out at him like a trail of blood. Jim was furious. Not only with this new scumbag, but with himself.

Which is why it took Jim almost a full five minutes to make a decision back a the station. Usually, the Batman managed to give Jim most of his leads. But this time, he'd come up dry. Nobody could tell Jim who this 'Joker' was. Where he'd come from. What his name was. Nothing!

They were dealing with something entirely different this time. Something they hadn't come up against before. At least with The Scarecrow, they'd had a name to go by. In the police business, facts and figures were safe. The unknown was not.

Jim's men had looked at him a little oddly at first after the broadcast, waiting for their commanding officer to jump into action. But they were good men (or at least most of them) and they had all waited patiently until the time came a few minutes later.

"Premises is locked down, Gordon." Romerez tapped him on the shoulder, decked in riot gear. "Clown ain't getting' in or out of it."

Jim nodded his head, readjusting his own bullet-proof vest. This time he was prepared. He wasn't going to let this 'Joker' use him as a pawn again. Jim was already furious with himself for the last incident. He wasn't going to let it happen again. The slowly scabbing cut on his lip served as a painful reminder.

"Good." Jim replied. "Get Werts with a squadron round the back. We don't want any screw-ups this time."

Before Romerez turned away to go to find Werts, she placed a hand on Jim's shoulder. He looked at it, then her, wondering why it seemed so fragile. She looked worried.

"Are you going to be okay, Jim?" she asked.

Jim simply nodded. He didn't feel much like talking. Taking her hand away from his shoulder, Romerez jogged off in the direction of lined patrol cars.  
Jim took in a deep breath through his nose and let it out again. He knew what was up there, probably already lying in wait. The Joker. But he tried not to let his anger get the best of him. Jim had been having sleepless nights thinking about that man.

About that _smile._

Only this time, Jim had taken precautions. He wasn't going to take any more chances when this nut was on the loose. This time, he had called Barbra. He didn't tell her what was wrong or what was going to happen. Just that he loved her and the kids. He even spoke to Jim Jr. for a while.  
He didn't want to make the same mistake twice. He had wanted to hear her voice before he went off to battle. Who knew if it would be the last time he heard her beautiful voice?

In a small way, Jim was glad for Romerez's concern. Or at least her company. They'd been working together since he'd pulled her out of OHT for dealing dirty business. But since then, almost seven years ago, Romerez had really changed. She looked out for him, although she would never admit it. It was reassuring to have a friend by your side, if a little worrying. And she was good friends with Barbra. Jim was glad for her friendship. It was like having a wary older sister. He trusted her completely.

It seemed that that was the only thing he _could_ trust in, these days.

A thud beside Jim made him jump, but he sighed a little angrily when he saw that it was only the Batman. It sounded strange to Jim, thinking _'only the Batman'_.

"He's up there?" the gravelly voice spoke beside him.

Jim looked back up at the six storey apartment block, seeking the lights he knew he would never find.

"We don't know. Akins wants to send in a search team, but we can't move." he turned to the dark knight. "We're treating this as a hostage situation. We need those patients back."

The Batman stood where he was, looking grim as always. Jim found himself wondering not for the first time about the man behind the mask. He doubted that he would ever receive his answer. Even though they'd been working side by side since the Scarecrow incident, he had never given a single thing away. And it was likely that he never would. After all – he had so much more to lose than the rest of them.

Looking skywards, Batman handed Jim a device.

"You'll see everything I see. When he let's his guard down, send them in."

Then he was gone.

"Sure." Jim sighed, feeling a little useless.

He looked at the tiny black screen in his hand. Another hostage situation. Jim only hoped that this time, it wouldn't be him playing the part. He knew that he should do something, but for the moment, it was for the Batman to handle.  
Jim had no leads. He had no ideas. He was fresh out. All he had left was brute force, squad dogs and a hell of a lot of tear gas.

He watched as a big black shape zipped up along the side of the building, like a mouse up a drain pipe. He followed Batman's silhouette up onto the roof, waiting for something to kick in.

It didn't.

As usual, the Batman was running the show.

* * *

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

The sound of the leaky facet echoed in the empty apartment. For a moment, The Joker sat where he was, listening to it.

Even after all these years, it was still so calming. He looked at his watch. It showed five minutes to midnight. Close to showtime. Soon, it'd just be him and the Bat. Or maybe he wouldn't be quite so lucky and it would be him and the GPD. They were making enough of a racket in the streets, anyway.

He sighed, banging his head against the tiles behind him. Perhaps a little harder than was necessary. He heard a crack behind him and one of the tiles chipped in half, clattering onto the floor.

It hurt, but he barely registered it. The place was pretty much crumbling to pieces anyway. Closing his eyes, The Joker tried to wait out the fuzziness behind his eyes. He remembered someone telling him once;

"_Never start with the head. The victim gets all fuzzy."_

"No kiddin'." he grumbled to himself, rubbing at his eyelids.

The Bat would be along any time soon. He was sure of it. It was only a case of waiting and preparing. Oh, he had things lined up! He wasn't going to leave anything undone this time! He'd make them all know just who was pulling the strings! And it wasn't the Bat! He was going to introduce himself into Gotham with a bang. A big bang.

He could hear the GPD shuffling around outside, with their noisy sirens echoing in the empty walls. It wasn't getting him as excited as it usually did. Though he was looking forward to one thing.

Oh, yes! Yes. He was looking forward to meeting him.

The Batman.

Of course they'd already met. At Archym Asylum. But that hadn't been what he wanted. That had been too 'routine'. Now, here he was – out in the open! Nowhere to go! In the middle of a big building, and no way out! The Bat could finally speak to him properly, without interruption. Without the snooty noses of the GPD tailing at their hems!

But a thought occurred to him. Gordon. That cop he'd held hostage at Archym.

Perhaps he was slinking around here somewhere in the crowd. At least then if things went wrong, he'd have somebody nice to talk to in prison. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been in the joint, anyway. It was strange, being back again. Gotham had changed so much, and yet so little. It was as refreshing as it was repulsive. But now he was going to make things right. He had experience on his side. And The Joker was going to give Gotham City the time of its goddamn life!

"Boss?"

Opening his eyes, The Joker looked over at Newcomer, who's head was poking around the door frame. Just like a certain person had done all of those years ago.

"Yah?" The Joker answered, rolling his eyes skywards and chewing at his lips.

As usual, the boy looked nervous as hell. More than once, The Joker caught himself thinking that he was lucky to have at least one good that could be trusted. He wouldn't be too happy about killing Newcomer. That much was certain. But if the time came, he supposed that he'd have to.

They all wanted out in the end. But they'd soon learn that there was no way out. He couldn't be putting up with a bunch of snot-nosed cry babies. If you joined the ball game, you were in it to win it. The only way out was in a body bag.

"T-the Batman is comin', Boss." the boy stuttered, unable to look him in the eyes. "He-he's here."

That perked him up substantially. The Joker looked at his watch. How polite! The Bat was three minutes early! It was rare these days to find a punctual vigilante. Clapping his hands together, The Joker hoisted himself up off the floor. He smirked when he saw Newcomer jump. It was just so easy to screw with these people. Even if he liked the boy, he wouldn't let it show. Nobody would ever know.

Hell, why would anybody even care? Nobody really gave a crap about the 'underbelly of Gotham'. It didn't matter about any of the people underneath.

No. No, he knew what Gotham saw him as. As a _statistic_. A pest. A nuisance that plagued Gotham like a swarm of locusts! But he was going to change that! Oh yes! Yes, he was going to change it alright! He'd make them see him in the light he deserved! He was going to give Gotham the better class of criminal that it needed. He'd brought down entire cities before and he could do it again. At the end of the day, it was just too damn _fun_! And why would he want to just give it all up so easily? Especially when putrid, corrupted places like Archym were waiting for him on the other side.

Pressing a hand up against the tiles behind him to steady himself, The Joker moved over to the bathtub to pick up his jacket. The same spot it was always in.

"Go get the others." he called to Newcomer, still standing in the doorway. "Oh and uh, don't fuck this up, kid. Don't want to lose any more angels now, do we?"

The boy shook his head lamely, looking back at him in awed stupidity. God, it made him want to laugh! He wondered if he had looked like that once. So young and stupid.

"Is uh...is Sweetheart all ready and waiting?"

Again, the boy nodded his head up and down, flopping as lifelessly as a rag doll. The Joker had to fight the urge to laugh in his face. It was obvious the kid had some sort of crush on her. Hell! He'd probably never been laid in his life! Poor bastard didn't know what he was missing. But then again, he doubted Newcomer even knew what sex _was_. He'd probably end up accidentally gouging her eyes out instead. Seemed like his ideal kind of foreplay!

_Ah, a boy after my own heart._

"Fine. Fine." he waved the boy away and Newcomer hastily darted away into the shadows.

God, he loved how easily they obeyed him! Their blind, snivelling obedience was like a drug to him! He pushed them, they bent. It was endless fun trying to figure out just how far backwards they would go before they snapped! Honestly! It was like asking toddlers to go play with their toys! You said it – they were more than happy to do it! And if not....

Well...children learnt fast.

Swinging his arms into his jacket, The Joker looked over at the smudged, scribbled message scrawled on the wall. It hadn't faded, even with fifteen years of time to crumble away. It had been a while since he'd been back here. But everything had to start somewhere – and he began with Gotham!

Or was it the other way around?

The Joker shook his head. He was in a good mood. Finally, he was going to get his proper showdown with The Bat! And he was going to make sure that he didn't disappoint! Strolling out of the bathroom, whistling to himself, The Joker headed towards the fire door. He was headed for the stairs.

But before he left, he took one look back into the darkened bathroom. Smiling to himself, The Joker skipped away, closing the door behind him.

The brown and crusted _'I love you'_ faded back into the darkness.

* * *

Newcomer stood in the chill of the wind, waiting. He was waiting for the signal.

Although he wasn't entirely sure why the boss wanted him to do what he had to. He knew what he had to do, but he didn't know why. It didn't seem to be a very important job. But the boss had chosen him to do it. And so he would. He would do anything the boss told him to do.

It was cold on the roof. Gotham always seemed to be cold. It was like the whole city was just one big shadow. But Newcomer didn't mind. He liked shadows. In the shadows, he could hide. He was safe from the blinding vulnerability of the White Rooms. Here, he could hide from the Shadow Men.

"Goddamnit." he heard the boss mumbling to himself. "You'd think the guy would at _least_ be on time! It's fuckin' freezing up here."

Newcomer kept his eyes on the boss, watching as carefully as he could for the signal. There were butterflies flapping around in his stomach. Or maybe that was his soul, like the boss had said. If so, the pretty white butterflies were flapping their hardest.

It was hard trying to keep looking at the boss. Especially when they pretty angel was standing next to him. The boss had given her a special name too, just like Newcomer. Her name was 'Sweetheart'.

_Sweetheart._

Newcomer played the name round and round inside his head, liking the way it sounded. He always knew that the pretty angel was something special and now the boss knew it too. And the boss was never wrong. That's why he'd given her a name. But he couldn't stare at her. No. He wasn't supposed to look at her shiny hair, where the white butterflies lived.  
He had to watch the boss for the signal. And Newcomer wanted to do his very best to make sure that the awful Bat-demon went away.

He wanted to see it with his own eyes. Then he would speak to the Shadow Men and laugh and dance around, banishing them too. They would soon leave him alone without their big scary leader – the Batman. Then he and the pretty angel could get their wings back again. They would all fly away.

_The Batman can't catch us if we all fly up into the sky together._ He thought to himself. _Just like birds. Pretty white birds._

He tried not to let himself get side-tracked, but it was hard. He was trying not to look at the pretty angel. The voices snapped at him whenever his eyes wandered over to look at her shiny black hair and told him that he was being stupid. The boss had given him an important job to do! So why wasn't he doing it?

He wasn't the Second Angel for nothing!

But the boss was just standing there, looking out into space as he usually did. The Batman hadn't shown himself yet, although Newcomer knew that he was watching from somewhere. The shadows were an easy place to hide and Newcomer was sure the Bat-demon was hiding in them. He was too, after all. Yes. The Batman was watching the boss. He was waiting.

But for what?

"Goddamnit. You gonna make me wait all night or what, Batsy?"

The bosses voice sounded very loud to Newcomer and he fought the urge to cover his ears. No. He had to look at what he was doing! He had to wait for the signal! The boss was beginning to get angry too. He wanted to face down the Batman and the big scared coward was hiding away inside the shadows like a frightened kitten!

_But demons are afraid of angels._ Newcomer thought. _All the shiny white butterflies scare them away. And the boss has the biggest, whitest butterflies of all! That's why he's scared._

Newcomer jumped when he heard a thud on the gravelly roof. He giggled nervously to himself when he saw the darkened shadow at the other end of the roof. He was here! He had come out of hiding! The Batman!

The Batman was just as terrifying as Newcomer remembered – even more so in the darkness of midnight. Maybe the boss shouldn't have chosen to meet him at night. That's when the demons were strongest – when it was dark. The looming shadow remained still, standing before the boss like a dark menace. Newcomer could just about make him out against the gloom. He looked like a big black smudge on paper!

But the boss wasn't afraid. The boss was never afraid! And so, neither would Newcomer be afraid.

He watched the boss pull Sweetheart towards him, pulling out the little knife that Newcomer knew was his favourite. He knew he wouldn't hurt her. It was just an act. Just playing a role, like when Newcomer wore his mask. They had to convincing. They had to be good. Just like actors in a play.

"You're five minutes late." the boss said, looking at his watch. "A little _rude_, dont'cha think?"

"Let her go!" a dark gravelly voice replied, pointing at Sweetheart

Newcomer winced. He didn't like the sound of the demon's voice. Not one bit. It was like hearing metal scraping over gravel. It was the noise of his destroyer. The thing that took his wings away. And he didn't like that the demon was so close to Sweetheart. The disgusting, slimy demon would only spirit her away and take her down into the fires it lived in!

He didn't know how the boss could stand it. But the boss was a brave angel. He was very brave. That was why he was their leader.

"_Ah._ To the point." the boss replied, pulling Sweetheart a little closer still. "....I like that. Very bold. Very motivating. Gotta think on my feet!"

A chilling wind blew past and Newcomer shivered, trying to keep his mouth firmly shut. He didn't think the demon had spotted him yet. He was hidden well behind a big pipeline. He could see them, but they couldn't see him. For a minute, he studied the Batman's face, though he was scared stiff by the hulking black figure. The demon looked angry. He always looked angry. Newcomer found himself once again wondering why the Batman was so sad. So angry.

_Is it because he can't fly? Doesn't he like being a demon?_ He thought._ I wouldn't like to be a demon._

The boss chewed at his nails, looking out over the pretty night lights of Gotham City. Sweetheart shivered in his grasp. It was cold.

"What do you want?" the demon's voice barked in the darkness.

Newcomer winced again. For a minute, the boss looked as if he was listening to a really bad poem. That was the only way Newcomer could describe it. But then the look vanished again and the boss went back to being serious. The boss didn't like to be serious, but sometimes he had to be.

Maybe it was because of the Batman.

"What do I want?" the boss mumbled to himself. "_Hmmm._ Wha'dda I want? What. Do. I. Want?"

Newcomer forced himself to look only at the boss when the voices snapped at his temples. No. They were right. He couldn't start daydreaming now. Daydreaming was for people who didn't have important things to do. Newcomer did. He had to watch for the signal.

"You know, that's a very...._broad_ question." the boss continued, swinging his one arm wide. "I could say anything, really! You need to be more specific. I want uh, I want a grilled cheese sandwich. I want to see what's under that mask of yours. I wanna know why the GPD hasn't tried to come find me themselves. Hell! I even want to see Archym Asylum go up in flames all over again!"

Newcomer could hear him chewing his lips.

"I want lots'a things."

The Batman didn't reply. Newcomer thought that was very rude. The boss was a visionary! He only wanted to make the world a better place. He wanted it to be full of dancing lights and big red smiles!

"But to be more specific..." the boss continued. "I suppose you want the bigger picture, huh?"

The Batman took a careful step to the side. The boss stepped with him. They were making a big circle around each other. Sweetheart mumbled to herself as the boss pulled her along with him. He patted her head with the hand holding the knife and she winced. She was a good actress.

"There there, Sweetheart." the boss played along. "Nobody likes a cry baby."

The demon and the angel continued to circle each other on top of the roof. Newcomer followed only the boss. He had to look out for the signal. He had to be careful.

"_Ah!"_ the boss held up a finger, as if he'd just had an idea. "I got it! What...._I_ want....is to watch Gotham burning."

It was then he gave Newcomer the signal.

* * *

**Author's Note's : Dun dun duuun! Sorry to leave you with a cliffhanger guys, but the day after tomorrow, I'm going to Prague with my college. So you won't hear much back from me for the next five days. And after that, I'm moving into a new apartment with my boyfriend. I'll try and get as much work done as I can and answer your reviews as often as possible. Hope you're all still reading!**


	9. The Gotham Inferno

**Worst Fear - a Joker Story**

**Meeoko**

**Summary : They say the night is darkest before the dawn. But I like the dark - I like it a lot! That's why I built an army. An army of fallen angels. Joker-focused fic. Begins just before The Dark Knight. Rated M.**

**Author's Note's : Okay. I've been getting a few questions asked recently, so I guess I'll just do it here. Hopefully, I'll answer all of the things you want to know.**

**How do you write your stories? Where do your ideas come from?**

**Well, whenever I start a chapter, I make a quota. Say five thousand words or so. And I won't even think about posting that chapter until I have met the five thousand word quota. Idea's I usually get from movies, books, poems, nightmares or real life experiences (I have a lot of nightmares). I don't really have a plan to any of my fictions. Usually, I just make it up chapter by chapter, with a rough idea of what I want and hope it turns out well. I have no plan, really. Just like The Joker. **

**I noticed The Joker likes that black haired girl. Is this going to turn into a JokerxOC fiction?**

**God no! Nope. Strictly no pairings in this fic (other than me fancying the hell out of Heath Ledger's Joker). If I do incorporate OC characters, I make sure that they only have a small role, and not a commanding one. Like the fat angel that had the explosive phone in him.**

**What happened to the little girl from The Joker's memory?**

**Ah, Libbit. Actually, I'm debating whether or not to continue on that memory. I actually have a few ideas for a sequel in the works as well, based on that little girl. Depends if you guys like this fiction enough to read it.**

**Is The Joker Bipolar or does he have split personality disorder?**

**Ah, I'm not giving anything away about his 'episodes'. Takes away from the mystique. If you read between the lines enough in the last chapter, you can usually figure out the answer. I think the closest clue is when he describes his episodes as 'the humanity'.**

**Don't we get to hear a bit more about the pretty angel? The one Newcomer likes?**

**Hmmm. If you really want me to, I can write a little bit more about Newcomer and the angel. Ok, so I say strictly no pairings. But is it technically a pairing if one of them is a mentally disturbed OC and the other is hardly mentioned in the film?**

**I want to hear a bit more about Newcomer's past.**

**Well, it can be arranged, certainly. But as with The Joker, I won't be giving too much away, or spelling it out for anyone in black and white. I'll give you hints and clues, but no direct answers. It just takes away from the mystery and complexity of the characters. Obviously, if you're good enough at reading between the lines, you'll understand what most of the hints are getting at. But yah, I'll work on it.**

**You're not going to kill off Jim, are you?**

**Hell no! Jim has an awesome moustache!**

**How long do you plan on making this fic?**

**To be honest – I have no idea! I suppose until the creative juices have exhausted themselves. That's the problem with making up a fiction as you go along. There's no structure. You literally stop writing when everyone either gets bored, or you run out of good ideas. If I had to give a ball-park number, I'd say about 20 chapters or so. Like the rest of my fics.**

* * *

Something sparked.

Jim watched, transfixed as the line of fire trail down the building. His heart caught in his mouth as he ran towards it, realising what was happening. One heavy thumping footstep at a time. As if in slow motion.

The spark, blazing and white as it flew. His feet pounded against the floor, echoing in his ears. He heard someone shouting. But Jim couldn't beat gravity. Not even the Batman could.

The spark hit the floor.

Walls of towering, burning inferno's shot upwards, forcing Jim onto his backside. His eyes went wide as the flames roared, licking and spitting as it trailed from one end of the building to the other. Heat scorched at his face and he raised a hand to his face, desperately scrambling backwards. He looked upwards, seeing a small blazing fuse, dangling from the roof of the building. The wall of fire spread as it licked at the invisible gasoline trail, blazing into the path of his men. They licked and spat at the derelict double doors, climbing up the ancient and mouldy surface. The entrance was blocked.

"Goddamnit!" Jim screamed, rolling away from the blaze as quickly as he could. "Why the hell didn't anyone check for gas?!"

His sleeve was smouldering. He whacked at it, blind to the panic of the GPD around him as he bashed out the embers on his jacket. The sirens started up again, full force. Jim was momentarily blinded. All he could see were colours! What had happened? How the hell had they missed it? They hadn't had time! Nobody had had time!

Jim instantly looked at the little black device in his hands. The screen flickered and then Jim saw him. There he was, cackling, holding a knife up to a beautiful black haired girl's throat. The red smile bore down on Jim, mocking him, even when The Joker was eight floors up, facing the wrath of the Batman.

The fire began to spread, spitting and crackling around the entire building, circling it. Shaking his head in disbelief, Jim pulled himself together. Rising up off the floor, he backed away from the blaze, shouting orders to the chaotic array of men and women rushing around him.

"Henson! Get the Fire Department down here! Check for any gas leakages and for God's sake, get the surrounding buildings evacuated!"

"Romerez! Get a SWAT team onto the nearest roof! Take as many as you need! Take fire when the hostage is clear!"

"Laurel, you're with me! I want Special Units down here in three minutes! In _three! _Get air support on the phone! We need cover!"

It was chaos. The trail of fire began to climb up the building, slowly devouring all that was inside. The entrance was completely ablaze, the cracking sound of a wooden beam falling to the floor. Jim rushed towards the nearest patrol car, his hand already reaching to the radio at his vest. The image of Barbra flashed through his head once, smiling over at him from across the coffee table, sweeping away a strand of glistening hair. He swept the image away quickly. He couldn't let himself lose concentration! Not now!

_Bang!_

Jim dived for cover, hearing the shot. He heard somebody screaming orders and the sound of return fire as the crackling of the blaze echoed in the air. He pulled the cruiser door open, immediately ducking underneath it as he heard the _ping _of a bullet hit the bumper.

"Return fire! _Return fire_!" he screamed to his men. "Situation is hostile! We need to get those hostages out of there!"

Chancing a look round the safety of the cruiser door, Jim looked out into the chaos. He could see his men running, aiming up at the windows which surely held battle rifles inside and shouting. His eye caught Romerez, also hiding behind the door of a cruiser, clutching her shoulder. She'd been hit!

Jim felt fury running through his veins as the adrenaline of fear and rage soared to his heart. He looked up, puling his gun out of its holster as he did. He looked up, spotting a man at one of the windows. Hostage or goon, he didn't know. Taking aim, Jim took his shot.

The man staggered backwards away from the window, falling backwards.

"Where's Air Support?!" he screamed into his radio. "I need backup!"

He could hear the screech of sirens somewhere in the distance. He needed to put the blaze out! Who knew what was happening to the Batman up there?

_Ping! Ping! Ping!_

Bullets scraped against the hood of the cruiser and Jim ducked, shielding his eyes as fragments of glass burst from the wind shield. He darted his head around the door, firing off another few rounds. He saw his men falling. So many of them! How had this happened? Where was Batman?

He looked at the screen in his hand, wincing as the sound of gunfire rose above the roaring inferno and the screaming sirens. It was flickering, as if the Batman was on the move. He could hear the cackling voice echoing in the background, roaring with laughter over the flames.

"_Tick tock_, Batman!"

There was an explosion.

Jim dived for cover as another trail of fire sped past his cruiser, barely five feet away from him! He could hear someone screaming and smelt the stench of burning flesh. Looking up through the broken windshield, Jim watched the trail of fire speed towards the nearest building!

"Goddamnit!" he screamed, watching in horror as his glasses lit up against the blaze. "I need ACU _now! _This thing's gonna spread to Samson Street! Evacuate all surrounding area's!"

What the hell had happened? Why hadn't anybody seen the invisible fuse? They'd checked and double checked the building before midnight! How had something gone so wrong? He prayed to God that the boys back at headquarters were doing everything they could! It was like the Scarecrow incident all over again!

_Ping! Ping! Ping!_

Jim looked back over to Romerez, still grasping her shoulder behind the back of a patrol car. Clenching his teeth and taking a deep breath, Jim lunged forward. He ran full pelt through the noise, hearing the ricochet of bullets spraying behind him. He ducked behind a dumpster, returning fire at a man in a clown mask, leaning out of the burning building.

"Romerez!" he called, sticking his head around for a fraction of a second. "I'm coming!"

The sirens got louder. Jim could see the blue reflecting off of the empty walls. They were coming, but now he had the Fire Department to protect too!

"_Fall back!_" he screamed down the radio to his men. "Fall back to the main road! Fire department under heavy fire!"

"Gordon!"

Jim looked down at the little black device in his hand, astounded to hear the Batman's voice.

"He's got the hostages wired at Avenue X." the dark gravelly voice continued as the screen flickered. "I'm going after them. Can you hold this down?"

Jim tried not to burst into hysterical laughter. Couldn't the Batman see from way up on the roof? They didn't exactly have everything under control at the moment!

"We'll handle it!" he replied, desperate to have the hostages returned safely. "Go!"

It was then he took his chance. Darting out from behind the dumpster, Jim pelted towards the cruiser where Romerez was crouched. He heard the crack of beams breaking as he slid behind the cruiser, ducking underneath the bonnet as more bullets banged against the car.

"I'm hit, Gordon!" Romerez winced, handing him her gun.

God, the woman was vigilant! Taking the gun from her, Jim moved the rim of the bullet proof jacket away from her shoulder. The bullet has clipped the side, just entering near the shoulder bone. It had gone in at a wrong angle. It looked like a bad shot. Swallowing his heart in his mouth, Jim pulled her good arm over his shoulder and hoisted her weight onto him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, trying to pull her up. "Can you walk?"

She looked at him, incredulous. She almost looked angry. Jim tried not to mentally slap himself. That was a stupid thing to say. And when you pissed Romerez off, you _really_ pissed her off!

"Goddamnit, Gordon!" Romerez snapped. "I'm no rook! Course I can walk! Let's get the hell out of here!"

Nodding, Jim took another deep breath and then lunged forward, the extra weight of Romerez making his heart soar up into his mouth. The gunfire continued, though his men had fallen back. The blaze licked further down the road, to the remaining buildings in the area. Thank Christ they were all derelict! But if the Fire Department didn't get here soon, the blaze would reach the populated area's!

"Move your ass, Gordon!" Romerez screamed in his ear as they ran.

Jim ducked lower, moving as fast as he could with her weight on his shoulder. It was unnecessary, he knew. But he wasn't leaving anybody behind! Especially Romerez!

They ran faster and faster, slowly leaving the blaze a little further behind. Jim was sweating and he wiped away the beads of sweat on his forehead. They ducked behind the patrol cars as they ran, slowly hearing the gunfire die down. Why were they stopping? Had the fire reached too high? And where was The Joker?

They heard the loud wail of sirens and stopped, both panting breathlessly. They lumbered the last few steps, to where a group of Jim's men were crowded behind a patrol car. Was that all that was left? Where were the rest?

"Gordon." one spoke, taking Romerez away fro him and hiding her behind the bonnet. "ACU's on its way, but the bridges are having trouble. They're gonna be another five minutes."

"Goddamnit." Jim cursed under his breath. He needed all the help he could get and the damn bridges were still having problems since the incidents last week.

"Hey Jim?"

Jim looked up. Romerez was looking at him, wincing and smiling at the same time. She was still clutching at her shoulder, which had started to seep a bit too much blood.

"Thanks." she said simply, smirking.

Jim nodded back. He couldn't manage a smile. Something screeched from behind them and Jim felt his heart soaring. Thank God! The Fire Department was here! He was going to get this son of a bitch if it was the last thing he did!

The gunfire had stopped completely and Jim chanced standing up from behind the cruiser. Waving at a few of his men to follow him, they jogged towards the red truck pulling in to the corner. Jim tried to concentrate on anything besides the fire. Why had the gunfire stopped? Where was the Joker? Had they all been lost to the fire consuming the building? It had sure as hell spread enough!

The truck came closer to them, slowing down carefully. Jim frowned. Why were they going so slowly? Couldn't they see the goddamn fire right in front of them?

It was then that Jim stopped breathing for a moment. The fire truck was full of clowns.

* * *

He smiled to himself. Jesus, that had been _too_ easy!

Sure, it had been pretty goddamn funny to watch the Batman scurrying down the building like a rat out of a sewer. And it had been even better to watch the GPD falling like domino's. But the best thing about it all was that it had been for nothing!

The Joker smoothed back his hair, ruffling out the soot and ash that came tumbling out of it. Those freakin' morons sure had taken their precious time in getting there! He'd almost burnt to death! Oh well. If he had, he had. But they'd put the blaze out in enough time. Sure, it had been a gamble – but that was how he played. That was just the way he liked to do things. It was always harder than it was meant to be.

It was cool in the empty bathroom. He liked bathrooms, though he wasn't sure why. They were always so quiet. So cold. He spent most of his time alone. It wasn't like he was going to get any intelligent conversation from his army of hampsters, anyway.

The Joker took in a deep breath through his nose, smiling to himself. It had been a productive day. His proper introduction to the Bat had gone just as well as he had expected. Everything had gone off without a hitch. Batsy had lost his hostages _and _the GPD, only three of his 'angels' had died and with a bit of luck, nobody had still managed to put out the fires. Who knew? Maybe he'd get lucky and it'd spread to actual populated areas. But that'd be a gamble. The night had been interesting enough as it was. He didn't want to go wishing for too much.

"B-boss?"

Newcomer stood in the doorway, looking at his feet. The Joker looked at him in the reflection of the broke mirror, looking rather bored. It had been two hours since the fire. Now he had nothing else to do. It was lucky there were so many crappy, derelict building in Gotham, or he'd have nowhere else left to lay low.

"_Yeah_?"

Newcomer had been surprisingly spineless when it came to the fire. He hadn't known where to put himself. It had been fucking hilarious! He'd just stood there, with his mouth hanging open like a fish (but then again, that's how most of them looked). But it was pretty goddamn funny when he'd started gasping in the smoke. Even more so when the Batman had scurried off to save the 'hostages' and The Joker had thrown Sweetheart at him. Jesus, Newcomer had looked like he was going to crap himself! He'd nearly laughed himself off the side of the building!

The Joker tittered to himself, licking his lips. It was endearing, in a way. But that was only because they were both very likely to die in the next two weeks or so. Sure, he'd be sad to see them go, but sacrifices had to be made!

"Th-the bad men are ready." Newcomer muttered, still not taking his eyes away from the floor.

He sighed heavily. It was strange, really. Sure, he was looking forward to it. It'd been his idea in the first place. But things just seemed so....._rushed. _Rushing was not something that he liked to do. If you were going to do something, you had to do it properly. He wondered when was the last time that he'd had a bath. Probably quite a while.

"Fine." he sighed, turning away from the bathroom mirror towards Newcomer. "I trust my friend Gordon is comfortable?"

The boy nodded nervously to the floor. The Joker smiled, although the boy's nervousness irritated him. It was a good thing, fear. But it did get quite tiring after a while. Jesus! Was there _nobody_ besides the Bat in Gotham City that would stand up to him?

_Fucking morons. _He thought to himself.

Straightening his tie, The Joker walked out of the bathroom, smacking Newcomer on the back of the head as he did so. Just for good measure. The boy cowered and slunk away back into the shadows like a reptile. No. Not a reptile. A reptile would strike once it came back out of the shadows. Newcomer would not. A reptile had balls. Newcomer did not.

Swinging his purple coat onto his shoulders, The Joker headed for the stairs. It was lucky they had found this place, really. It was better than taking them back to the apartment anyway. It was starting to stink with all of the bodies piled inside. He'd have to find somewhere new before they ended up getting rats. Sure, he didn't mind if they chewed on some of the 'angels' for a while, but he _hated_ rats. They scared the crap out of him, although he couldn't figure out why. Probably something he'd seen or heard a few years ago. It was getting so much harder to remember stuff these days.

Kicking open the fire door at the bottom of the stairs, The Joker headed for the basement. At least now he'd get to have a bit of fun. He hadn't had this much fun since the incident at Archym. Things were beginning to heat up now! And the Bat had never suspected! He obviously hadn't done his research well enough. And now, he'd paid the price. Eventually, they all did.

He remembered his father telling him something once when he was younger.

"_Never trust a clown."_

He snorted through his nose. Pfft! Yeah, sure. Words of wisdom from the old man. Should have listened to his own goddamn advice.

"Sure, pa." he muttered to himself. "Never trust the clowns..."

* * *

Newcomer watched the boss go. His head hurt. He wondered if he'd done something wrong. The boss didn't usually hit him unless he had done something wrong.

"_It's because you're a big screw-up."_ the little voices snapped at him. _"Because he doesn't like you."_

Newcomer frowned, waving a hand to dismiss the little clouded voices. He shouldn't listen to them, he knew. Of course the boss liked him! He wasn't second angel for nothing! It was because the voices were jealous! They were always jealous.

His eyes were stinging. He hadn't liked the fire. It had been too bright. Too hot. Newcomer hated being hot. It reminded him too much of the White Rooms and the coats with lots of arms. The smoke had gotten in his eyes. Now they were all itchy. Itchy and puffy. It was very annoying.

The boss had gone to talk to the bad people. He knew what to do. The boss always knew what to do. He'd seen that man again. The leader of the bad men. The one with the big fuzzy moustache. It made Newcomer want to laugh. It looked like a big furry slug!

Tittering to himself, Newcomer decided it was time to be moving. He didn't know where or why, but he just...knew. He had to be moving somewhere. There were lots of dark hiding places to explore in the new building and the boss wouldn't be back for hours. The boss always took quite a long time whenever he went to talk to bad people.

He took the stairs two at a time. He was thinking. Thinking very hard. Why did the boss hit him? Was he angry? Was he sad? Had Newcomer done something wrong? He didn't think he had. Or maybe it had something to do with the Batman. Maybe the boss was angry that the flightless demon had run away like a big coward, just when the boss was going to strike. Maybe it was Newcomer's fault. Maybe he had lit the fuse wrong....

"_You always do it wrong!" _the voices chirped. _"Because you're useless! You're a big, stupid, useless thing!"_

Newcomer pouted, beginning to grow a little angry. The voices were being especially nosey today. He wished they would be quiet and leave him alone. And he was pretty sure that somebody was following him again. Somebody was always following him.

Newcomer was so lost in his thoughts that when he bumped into something, he barely noticed. He looked up. His mouth fell open slightly when he saw what it was he had walked into.

_Sweetheart._

There she was. His angel, looking up at him from behind big curtains of shiny black hair. She looked down at the floor, her bottom lip trembling. Newcomer's mouth hung open for a minute before he remembered to shut it again. His angel, Sweetheart. What did he do? He didn't know how to talk to pretty girls? What if the pretty angel thought he was just being stupid? But would she really? He _was _second angel, after all. He was important. Wasn't he?

She had blue eyes. He liked blue. Blue was a safe colour. Blue was nice. Sweetheart was nice. He was sure of it.

For a moment, they both stood where they were on the landing, each looking at the floor. Sweetheart was swaying on her feet a little. It looked like she was dancing. Newcomer couldn't dance. He didn't know how.

"_You're pathetic!" _the voices squealed in his ear. _"Angels don't talk to the dirt!"_

Newcomer sniffed, chewing on his lip. He wasn't dirt! He was an angel! More than that – he was second angel! Second important! And angels _did _speak to other angels! He'd show those stupid voices! He'd show them just how shiny and good he was! Just as shiny and good as Sweetheart!

"...I...you-you like the dark?" he stuttered, though he couldn't look up at her. Instead he looked at his shoes.

He saw the curtains of curly black hair bob up and down, as if she were nodding. She was looking at the floor too. It was okay. Looking at people made Newcomer feel scared. Even if they had shiny hair.

"I-I like the dark." he repeated, feeling a tug of happiness. "I like it a lot."

Silence. They stood there for a few moments, each looking at the floor. Newcomer realised how dirty it was. All covered in mud and gunk. It was icky. He hoped that the boss would find somewhere a bit nicer to go to next time. This place smelt like tears.

"I remember....flowers."

Then he did look up. The pretty angel had her head still bowed, a single brilliant blue eye peeking out from behind her curly, shiny hair. There wasn't much behind her eyes, but Newcomer still thought they looked so shiny. Like mist. Pretty, shiny mist.

"Flowers." she repeated, sniffing. "Lots of....lots of pretty ones. They were on the window."

Newcomer felt a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Like the boss got when he had an idea. He...he remembered too. The flowers. The pretty white flowers on the outside. On the window boxes!

"White." he said, chancing another glance at her face. "Pretty and white."

Slowly, Sweetheart lifted her head. Newcomer held his breath. The curtains of hair fell back slightly and he thought that he was looking at the most prettiest angel in the entire world! The misty blue eyes looked at him for a fraction of a second before darting away again. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

"You remember?" she asked, a tiny smile creeping at one corner of her mouth.

Newcomer nodded. He did remember. Sometimes when it was warm outside and the sun rose in his window, he could see the pretty flowers through the bars. They rose with the sun, like little soldiers.

"You...you have the white butterflies?"

She nodded back, her eyes once again falling to the floor.

"I think...I think...I do."

Newcomer tried to smile, but it wouldn't come. There! He'd shown those stupid voices! He was talking to his angel, wasn't he? He told them so! And her voice was as sweet and smooth as sliding honey. It made the other voices smaller. Even_ they_ stopped talking to hear the pretty sound.

"You do..." she mumbled behind her curtain of hair.

She raised a finger and Newcomer winced slightly. But his heart stopped jumping around when he saw that Sweetheart was pointing at his eye.

"There." Sweetheart mumbled.

Newcomer tried to look at his own eye, but it was very hard. Eyes weren't made to look at themselves. That would be vain. Was she saying his butterflies were in his eyes? He didn't know. He didn't know what colour his eyes were. He supposed that they must be white, or else Sweetheart wouldn't have seen them.

The twitch at his mouth slowly turned into a small smile. Yes. His angel had seen his butterflies.

* * *

"_These are scenes shown from earlier on tonight of the blaze spreading towards the Gotham Bridges. 23 estimated deaths, whilst almost 78 people were admitted to Gotham General to be treated for burns and smoke inhalation. The cause of the blaze is still unknown, although the investigation is ongoing as volunteer fire fighter desperately tried to get the blaze under control."_

Alfred sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. It had been a long night and Master Wayne was not happy. Not happy _at all._

The great Gotham Fire had been plastered all over the news, and Master Wayne had had a front row seat. Only this had not been a performance that Alfred was sure he wanted to catch. The fire had slowly spread to Samson Street when the GPD discovered that the Gotham Fire Department had been knocked unconscious and locked in the fire house. Their uniforms had been stolen and one truck was missing. It had taken almost half an hour to get a response out and by that time, the blaze had spread beyond control. Luckily, someone had thought ahead to evacuate that half of the city, but even so – the fire had claimed many. Too many.

Master Wayne was furious. He had come home to the penthouse in the small hours, slamming a fist into the nearest priceless painting as he did so. He had been duped. And quite badly so. Alfred remembered someone saying something to him once.

"_Never trust a clown's smile."_

Alfred shook his head, washing down the asprin in his hand with a glass of water. Master Wayne had spent most of the night alone in his room, refusing to speak to Alfred, no matter how hard he tried.

This new madman he was after – The Joker – had sent him on a wild goose chase. Some hostages on Avenue X that hadn't really been there. Oh, there had been the fuse bombs that he had promised, but nothing else. And Master Wayne had been singed and blown half to bloody Devon for his troubles. But when he got back to Greater City Avenue, the entire place had gone up in flames, unrecognisable in the wild fire consuming Gotham. Master Wayne had done his part to extinguish the blaze, but even _he_ had his limits.

"Like I'm always bloody telling him." Alfred mumbled to himself.

Ever since, Master Wayne had spent most of his time in his room, trying to track the communicator that he had given the Officer Gordon before the blaze had started. But he didn't seem to be having much luck. It seemed that Officer Gordon and his unit had perished in the blaze and Master Wayne was not taking it too well.

He had fought with those men by his side, he'd known them, helped them. It was understandable that he should feel the way he did. But there was only so much that Alfred could do. If Master Wayne didn't want to listen to him, then there wasn't much that he could do about it. Until he was ready to listen, Alfred would wait. He could almost see the cogs turning in his young master's head, winding up too tightly until they were ready to spring.

Alfred didn't like to see him this way. It was far from the plucky young boy who had often asked him so fervently to tell him stories about his time in the Gandi. He was still young, after all. And he was digging himself an early grave. Especially with this new bloody nutcase running around. Master Wayne was in too deep. Wayne Enterprises had been suffering recently, although Lucius Fox was doing a grand job keeping it afloat. If Master Wayne didn't slow down soon, he was going to finish himself off before any of the scum of Gotham's underbelly could get a chance.

"_...unit of patrol cars, led by Officer Jim Gordon is reported missing. Gotham City Police Head of Communication, Lieutenant David Price claims to have lost contact with the squad's head minutes before a fire truck was spotted outside Samson Street. The very same truck that was reported missing from Gotham City Fire Department just hours ago."_

Alfred looked up at the television screen. There was a picture of Officer Jim Gordon, along with speed camera footage of the missing fire truck speeding along Samson Street.

"_Police say that the disappearances may be linked to the theft, although Fire Sergeants are still combing the source of the fire earlier today for casualties..."_

Rising up from his chair, Alfred rubbed at his temples before heading out of the kitchen and down the hall. He was sure that Master Wayne would like to hear about this.

* * *

_It was dark. He couldn't see much. They had taken him when he hadn't been expecting it, and now he was going to have to pay._

"_Goddamn moron." he muttered to himself, leaning forward in the chair. "Shouldn't be jeopardising yourself for some snot-nosed kid. Do I feel bad about killing Mommy and Daddy? Pfft! Like hell I do...."_

_And he didn't. The humanity wasn't really that deep. Not yet. It was getting easier to ignore it now. But there had just been a soft spot there that he couldn't get rid of. For the red haired little girl whose parents he had murdered. He hoped she was okay._

"_No, damnit!" he muttered angrily. "I don't. I don't. No. Doesn't matter. I don't care. I don't....care. Not my responsibility."_

_But he couldn't help but feel responsible. He knew it wasn't him. It was the other one. The humanity. It was getting harder to silence these days._

_The door opened and light flooded the darkened garage. He winced. It had been a long time since he'd seen light. How long had it been now? Three days? He though it was three, though he was pretty sure he'd been knocked out for most of it. Damn, he was hungry! Didn't these people ever get bored? Maybe he would just get it over and done with and kill them today. It was only a matter of time._

_They practically ran in, one throwing a punch into his stomach as he did so. He grunted, leaning forward in the chair, the handcuffs digging into his wrists. Goddamnit. Always hitting first, asking questions later! Didn't they know what they were doing? He looked up, letting out a puff of air._

"_Here to see....me?" he tittered, ignoring the pain in his stomach._

_The biggest towered over him. He couldn't make out his face, but he would bet anything that it was fat and ugly. Two more came to join him, standing beside him with crossed arms. He looked up at them, his bad eye stinging like a bitch. But he wouldn't let them know that._

"_You gonna tell me the code now, Clown Boy?"_

_He rolled his eyes. They had been through this already. Didn't people realise that he had a huge tolerance for pain? They could be at this for weeks at a time and get no answer!_

"_I said..." the voice repeated, slowly. "tell me the code, kid."_

_He looked over at him sarcastically, pouting. These people would never learn. It was weird. He supposed he still was a kid. But he didn't feel like one. He'd had to grow up pretty goddamn quick when he was a kid. But really, it was genius! Just think! A kid - taking down the entire of New Orion City's mob. All by himself – just for shits and giggles! The thought made him smile. He had his hobbies, they had theirs._

"_Ya know..." he managed through his broken lip. "....a flamingo has it knees in the back of its legs."_

_He laughed, rocking back in his chair and hooting. He swung his head backwards, laughing at the incompetent morons. They would be at this forever! He could outlast them!_

_One of the men lunged forward, grabbing him by the back of the hair and pulling him forward. But he kept laughing. He showed no other signs of emotion. They would only devour him in he did. That had been the only thing keeping him alive all these years. People feared what they could not control, and would not challenge what they feared._

"_I'll put _your _knees in the back of your legs, ya little bastard!" the man screamed, losing his temper._

_Jesus, his breath stank. How much longer was he going to have to sit and listen to this? He was used to it, after all. It had been happening to him for years. Jesus! He'd only just got out of the hospital! Now he was probably gonna end up going right back in! He was pretty sure his wrists were already broken and his ribs hurt like a bitch!_

"_I'm getting' tired, freak." the man rasped, barely an inch away from his face._

_He winced. He didn't like that word._

"_Jesus," he mumbled, trying not to laugh at the man. "your breath stinks."_

_He got a slap in the face for his trouble. His lip was beginning to bleed again. He chewed on it for a while, staring the bulky shadow of a man directly in the face. He wasn't afraid of these people. He wasn't afraid of anything! He knew he should have been, but he wasn't. He had been born without the fear gene. And instead born with the chaos gene._

"_We got ways of makin' you talk, kid."_

_Slowly, an ugly reptilian smile spread across the man's face in the darkness. His teeth were pearly white. Almost like crystals. He was getting bored now. Next time, he wouldn't even bother taking their stupid don! It just wasn't worth the bother. These people were so boring._

"_Ya don't say." he replied, trying to ignore the man's putrid breath. "And I uh, I guess pulling out my toe nails isn't enough, huh?"_

_Suddenly, he heard a scream. He knew that scream. All too well._

_His blood ran cold. The shadowy smile grew larger in the darkness as his face dropped. He wasn't smiling any more._

"_You wouldn't!" he spat in the man's face. "You fuckin' pigs wouldn't dare!"_

_The darkness nodded, pulling his head forward a little more. He grit his teeth together, snarling at the man. No. Not that. Anything but that! God fucking damnit, why did he even care?!_

"_No." the man whispered, barely audible in his ear. "We wouldn't. That's why you're gonna do it."_

_It was then he saw Liberty._

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note's : Hm'kay. Thought I'd get things a bit faster paced in this chapter. Hopefully, the first chapter with Jim was written alright. I'm not very good at action scenes.**

**I decided to do something I hadn't done before in this fiction. I put in Alfred's point of view. I won't be doing it from Bruce Wayne/Batman's point of view though. I like to keep this a strictly Joker based fiction. But by using Alfred in the story, you get a more rounded picture. Hope it worked!**

**Sorry the update took so long. I still don't have the Internet at my new place yet, so updates will be sow in coming.**


	10. The Shadow Killer

**Worst Fear - a Joker Story **

**Meeoko **

**Summary : They say the night is darkest before the dawn. But I like the dark - I like it a lot! That's why I built an army. An army of fallen angels. Joker-focused fic. Begins just before The Dark Knight. Rated M.**

**Author's Note's : Two chapters in one day. How well do I treat you guys? Yes yes, I know. Love me! Lol.**

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* * *

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Jim felt his blood turning to thick, ice cold porridge in his veins. It clogged at his heart and stuck there. And it hurt like hell.

"Hello?" he called into the darkness. "Who's out there!"

He got no reply.

He struggled against the handcuffs, but it was useless. How had this happened? What had happened to the GFD? Goddamnit, where were his men? They were being shot at! The fire! And he was on the roof! And the Batman! What had gone wrong? Where had...? How had he...? What had...?

There were a million and one questions flying around inside Jim's head, but he could only answer one. What had _he_ done wrong? And the answer was everything. He had done _everything _wrong! He had been unprepared and reckless and stupid! And it had cost him five men – and the rest to a madman! God, this was insane! Where was Romerez? She'd been shot, for the love of God! She needed to get to a hospital! Not stewing in some rotting, God forsaken run-down warehouse!

_Bang!_

Light flooded the dark space and Jim winced. He hadn't seen the light for almost a whole day. How long had he been here?

"_Afternoon_, Gordon."

The voice sent a chill through his spine. It was him. How could it possibly be anybody else? Jim lunged forward in his chair, but it was useless. The handcuffs cut into his wrists and dug into the flesh. His mouth felt too warm and he tasted metal. He guessed that he'd opened up the cut again. The cut that _he _had given him. _The Joker._

The clash of the metal door sounded again as it swung closed and Jim was instantly thrust back into darkness. There was very little light and he couldn't see much. His vision was failing him in his age. But he glared into the darkness acidly, at the very same spot where The Joker had been standing before the lights went out. He knew what to do in a hostage situation, he was trained to know! But this was so much more different than anything he'd ever been prepared for. There was nothing by the book about this guy.

"_Comfortable?_"

Jim jumped a mile. The slinky voice was right behind had he moved so quickly? Jim tried to steady himself. The same stale smell of face paint wafted over him and he knew that The Joker was close. Too close. He could almost feel the breeze as the green hair swept past his face.

"Where....where are my men?" he asked as steadily as he could. He looked straight ahead into the darkness.

Silence. Jim strained his ears, trying to pick out any kind of movement. He didn't know where his captor was in the darkness. It was like the man was built for the shadows.

"They're....._around._" the same sleek voice replied to his left.

Jim instantly darted his head in the direction of the voice. But he couldn't see anything. Surely he'd be able to see the white face paint like a beacon? A bead of cold sweat dripped down the nape of Jim's neck. He found himself thinking about Barbra, and not for the first time.

He swallowed a lump in his throat. It didn't budge. He glared into the darkness, but never could he see the black rimmed pair of eyes staring back at him.

"You disap_point_ me, Officer."

Again, Jim's head darted in the direction of the voice. He thought he saw a flash of movement, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"Bullet proof vests now, eh?" the voice came again "And I thought you were better than that..."

Jim was confused. It seemed as if The Joker was everywhere at once. He couldn't place his voice. It was like trying to keep track of a shadow in the darkness! He could just make out The Joker tutting, as if he was disapproving of a naughty child.

"Now now, Gordon..." he spoke "Taking unnecessary precautions like this. You're gonna hurt my feelings. All this needless protection. Makes me think you're...._worried_ about something."

Jim wrung his hands together, trying to dislodge the cuffs behind his back. It wasn't working and his sweaty palms kept slipping against the metal.

"Are you trying to_ say_ something to me, Gordon?"

There was a pause. Jim thought he saw the glistening of a smile in the darkness, but it disappeared as soon as he had spotted it. It unnerved him, being alone like this, unable to even see the monster that had taken him hostage.

"Are you trying to say that maybe I'm..."

Silence. Jim tensed, unable to hear anything at all. Not even the sound of The Joker's maniacal breathing. A drop of water sounded in the distance. A bead of sweat slowly trickled down his neck.

"_SCARY?"_

Jim gasped, wincing as the Joker thrust his face out of the shadows, right in front of him. The piercing black eyes danced with unspoken laughter when he saw the officer wincing in fear and suddenly, Jim hated himself for showing the sign of weakness. Standing where he was, barely an inch away from his face, The Joker's mouth twitched, slowly growing into a smile that crept up along his face like poison ivy. But he didn't laugh like Jim had expected. No. Instead, he just stood there, his demon-like eyes bearing down on Jim like Satan himself. Smiling. Always smiling.

How he hated it.

"What...what do you want?" Jim asked, clearing his throat and trying to regain his composure.

The smell of burnt hair and more face paint filled his nostrils. There was soot on his face, mixed in with the murky dark rimmed face paint and he smelt musky. Obviously, The Joker had been just as lucky as he had to escape the blaze. But Jim knew that that was all part of the plan. The sick son of a bitch had planned to take a gamble like that. He was willing to risk his own life to pursue these sick homicidal needs.

The Joker sighed, rolling his eyes.

"_Why_....do people keep asking me that?" he shook his head. "It's such a _stupid _question! There's just _so _many answers I could give! I can't explain it. Because....I don't want anything – and yet, I want _everything_!"

He suddenly leant back, shadowing him back into the darkness. Jim could just make out his outline. It looked as though he'd thrown his arms wide.

"It's a pointless, unanswerable question. Your uh, your buddy _Ray _asked me that earlier....and look what happened to him."

Jim froze. Ray. Ray.... The name rang a bell. Then it hit him. Raymond Naylor! The war vet in the beat force! He hadn't turned up for work the day before. Had this sick son of a bitch gotten hold of him somehow? What had happened to him?

Jim tried to clear his throat. The big lump still didn't dislodge itself. He was too hot. It was the goddamn bullet proof vest, which had obviously done nothing to improve his chances. His shoulders ached from being pulled backwards for so long.

"Where is he?" Jim asked, squinting at the silhouetted figure of The Joker. "Raymond. Where is he?"

The Joker puffed out some air from between his lips. Jim could see his silhouette and was almost certain that he was rolling his eyes. How could somebody be so callous? So....inhuman?

"Now _that's _a stupid question." he replied.

And Jim knew he was right. He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what had happened to Raymond Naylor.

He took a deep, steadying breath through his nose. It was difficult trying to keep track of the formidable shadow of the homicidal clown in the darkness. It was like he was built just to live in the darkness. To lie in wait, watching as the prey lie unsuspecting and squirming. Just like all of the nefarious horrors that used to plague children's stories.

Jim had never been scared of clowns, like some people. But he had a feeling that he soon would be.

"My men need medical attention." Jim finally replied, speaking as slowly as he could. "Just let them go. We can work this out."

He heard it, finally. That laugh. But it was too deep. Too slow. There was nothing funny about the way that he was laughing at Jim. It was the laugh of a man who had nothing left to lose. Jim heard him this time, the slow footsteps echoing as if from somewhere far away. Until the footsteps stopped directly behind him and he smelt a mixture of burnt hair and face paint wash over him. The Joker leant down, so close now that Jim could have heard him breathing if a gun went off.

His breath whispered past his ear as The Joker spoke the one word that Jim had been expecting.

"_No."_

–

Newcomer wasn't sure what to do with himself, but he was happy. So very happy that he thought his butterflies were going to start flapping their wings and carry him off into the sky! He wouldn't even need his wings back if that happened! Something kept swimming around and around inside his head like a pool of water with the plug pulled out.

_Sweetheart._

He'd heard the angel's voice calling his name and he knew that it was the most beautiful thing that he would ever hear in his entire life. She had said that he had butterflies in his eyes. Shining and brilliant and white, like the pretty flowers outside the windows. She remembered them. Yes. Just like he did. But she was prettier than the flowers. She was prettier than a whole _field _of flowers!

He was wearing his mask again. The boss had told him to. And he didn't mind. He liked his mask. It made him feel safe. Safe and important. He heard another loud banging on the big metal door behind him and he slammed a fist behind him, banging it right back. Those people were so noisy! What if the boss was trying to sleep?

"You better let me outta here, ya little cop killer!" he heard from behind the big door. "We got wounded in here, for fuck's sake!"

Newcomer pouted, letting air from between his lips like he'd seen the boss do so many times. They were so pesky, these people. Why wouldn't they just let him be in peace, so that he could think about Sweetheart? Hadn't they ever seen the most beautiful girl in the world before? He didn't think they had. If they had, they'd be thinking about her too. Not being loud.

"Goddamnit, let us out!" he heard another voice, followed by another big bang on the door. "At _least _get me some freakin' bandages!"

Hmm. That was a thought. Did the boss really mind at all if the bad men bled? He didn't think so. But what if they were important people like ? He wouldn't want them dying, would he? Because then he'd get in big trouble with the boss. Very big trouble. And he didn't like to upset the boss.

Turning around to look at the door, Newcomer ignored the banging sounds coming from the other side. He looked around the corridor. Bandages. Where could he get bandages? Then he spotted it. A first air kit, nailed on to the wall a few metres down. He walked down the dirty hall, liking the echo his boots made on the floor until he reached it. He opened the door. It creaked very angrily and he had to pull quite hard to get it open. He looked around for a moment, pawing through the strange contents until he found something that looked vaguely like a wad of bandages.

"_You're going to get in trouble!" _the voices whined. _"The boss is going to be angry!"_

Newcomer ignored them, holding his nose high. The voices had been wrong before about Sweetheart and they were wrong this time! He had been on cloud nine since he had spoken to the beautiful angel and the voices had not been pleased with his success. Listening to his echoing footsteps, newcomer headed back down towards the big metal door, hearing the loud banging start up again. Before he reached out to touch the handle, Newcomer sniffed and clicked off the safety trigger on his rifle. He never did like the safety trigger.

The banging stopped when he pushed down the handle. Slowly, Newcomer shoved open the heavy, squealing door. It was dark inside the room and it smelled strongly of metal. Sticky wet metal. Like blood.

Newcomer walked into the room, gun first and squinting. He couldn't see much. He took a tentative step forward, then another. All he heard was the dripping of water.

_Bang!_

His gun was suddenly pushed downwards. It fired, hitting the concrete floor and pinging against the metal walls. Newcomer span around to point the gun in the direction of the blow, but something grabbed him from the side and pulled him sharply backwards. His arms went wide and he held tightly on to the gun as he fired a second round.

_Bang!_

The clashing of metal boomed in the tiny room as the bullet clanged off the corrugated walls. Newcomer whined as he was pulled backwards, thrashing around uncontrollably. The force behind him staggered, losing his balance. They both fell backwards, Newcomer's weight coming crashing down on the man.

_Bang!_

Again, the gun went off, hitting up into the roof as the butt of the battle rifle hit the floor. Newcomer winced as the wind was knocked out of him. An arm came up behind him and wrapped around his neck. He choked as someone tried to grab away the battle rifle in his hands. His mask had come loose from his face and gasping for breath, Newcomer bit down on the arm wrapped around his neck as hard as he could. He heard a scream and a sudden burst of warm, gooey metal filled his mouth. He spat it out, kicking out at another armoured man who was grabbing at his legs.

A boot came up to kick him in the stomach and Newcomer felt all of the breath leave his lungs. He dropped the gun, lurching forward as he gasped for air. There was a struggle behind him. He heard someone grunting. He gulped in gasps of air, his eyes going wide as he watched black spots dancing in front of them.

"_You're going to die!" _the voices screamed in his ear _"Kill him! Kill him!"_

The man underneath him lurched sideways, throwing Newcomer onto the dirty, muddied ground. He gasped, desperately trying to regain his breath. He whimpered, watching as images flashed inside his head. Things he thought he had forgotten.

"Get him up!" he heard someone shouting and he was roughly hoisted to his feet.

Something hard hit him in the face. Newcomer reeled. It felt like a steam train had ploughed into his face! The gooey metal sprang up again in his mouth and he heard something crunching.

"Sick little bastard!" he heard the screaming in the darkness. "Now so big now, are ya?!"

_Click._

Newcomer froze. He knew what that sound was. A hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him upwards. He couldn't breathe. He was spun around, an arm twisted painfully behind his back. He started whimpering when he realised he was staring down the barrel of his own battle rifle. The flashes kept coming. Explosions. Noise. Blood and dirt. People screaming. Him bleeding.

"_Shoot him! Shoot him!" _the voices screamed in his ears, laughing.

""You're gonna get us out of here, you sick son of a bitch!" the angry voice holding the gun spat.

Newcomer froze. His eyes went wide and he stopped breathing. Holding the rifle, standing in front of him, was one of _them_. The Shadow Men! No! How had they found him?

His body began to tremble. A terrified tear slid down his face as he looked up at the sneering, looming shadow. He struggled, thrashing violently to get away. His arm twisted further behind him, but he didn't care. He had to get away! Far, far away from the Shadow Men!

"No!" he screamed, blinded by complete and total terror. "Go away!_ Go away!_"

"_The Shadow Men! The Shadow Men!" _the voices screamed with laughter _"Back to the White Room! Back to the White Room!"_

He thrashed like an animal caught in a trap as the man behind tried to restrain him. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he screamed, his throat becoming raw. No! No! How had they found him? Not here! Please, please no! Not them! Not them!

"Just fucking shoot him!" the voice holding him screamed. "Now! Do it now!"

"_Do it now!" _the voices chanted _"Do it now!"_

"I won't go back!" Newcomer screamed, petrified tears streaming down his face. "Don't make me go back! _No!"_

_Bang!_

_Thud!_

Something clattered to the floor at Newcomer's feet. The noise stopped. Even the man holding him stopped still. Newcomer took in haggard breaths as he stopped screaming. Tears stung his face and he blinked them away with wide eyes. He darted his head towards the black and lifeless lump on the floor, the battle rifle lying beside it on the floor.

Newcomer let out another choked breath, almost falling forward as the arms wrapped around him let go. He was panting hard, looking with blurry wide eyes at the shape on the floor. The...the Shadow Man. It was...._dead!_

He looked out through the door to the light outside. There was no movement now. The Shadow Men retreated backwards into their disgusting, slinky corners. Newcomer looked towards the light of the corridor and tittered with a mixture of tears and happiness as he saw who was standing in the doorway.

There, firmly stood, holding a smoking battle rifle in her hands and the light bouncing off her beautiful shiny hair, was Sweetheart. His saviour. His beautiful, angelic saviour.

Killer of the Shadow Men.

–

God, it was fun toying with these people!

"You won't get away with this." he heard Gordon saying, though he was looking around into the darkness like a blind rat.

He rolled his eyes. Jesus, he wished he wouldn't keep saying that. It was just so...._cliché! _He was on the move again. It was obvious that Officer Gordon didn't really know his left from his right. He kept looking around blankly into the darkness, squinting and wrinkling his nose. It looked kind of funny. But he didn't blame the officer. He was good at what he did. And he'd always liked the dark.

"Oh, but I _am, _Gordon." he replied, slinking through the darkness. "I'm good at what I do."

And he was sure that Officer Gordon didn't doubt it. The officer started squirming again and The Joker rolled his eyes, getting bored with the game of cat and mouse.

"Why am I here?" Gordon asked against the darkness, sounding very angry indeed. "What do you want with us?"

Ah, so many questions, so little time. The Joker mulled it over for a moment, chewing on the insides of his mouth and prodding at the scar tissue with his tongue. To be honest, there was no particular reason he'd decided to kidnap the entire Major Crimes Department. If anything, it was just to piss the Batman off. And it was _fun_.

"Ya know, Gordon..." The Joker replied, trailing off as his eyes scanned the waiting darkness. "Ta' _me_, you seem like the kinda guy with a _family_. Lovely wife, cute kids, maybe even a dog or somethin'. The whole schibang! Am I right?"

He was right. He could see it in Gordon's frozen, tight face. He smiled, showing his teeth. Bingo.

"Ya see," he continued. "I'm not the kinda guy to take things lightly. I've done my research."

He shrugged, mainly to himself, waving a hand at Gordon.

"Have you done yours?"

The officer sat there for a moment, a concentrated frown furrowing his brow. It was a disguise. The Joker could see that easily. All part of 'the plan'. Don't let them see they've affected you. Keep a cool head. All that crap. And Gordon was trying to keep his up, though he was pretty sure it wasn't working.

The silence dragged on. Water dripped in the distance and a breeze blew through the empty holding bay. A minute passed, maybe two. It was fine with him. He could wait. He'd wait all day if he had to, just to see the look on Gordon's face when he replied. That was all part of the enjoyment, after all. Why set a bunch of domino's up if you weren't just going to push them down all over again?

"No name." Gordon finally replied. "No matches on prints. No dental or health records. Plenty of jail time, but for how long and when are unknown. Time spent in several asylums across the country, including Archym. No next of kin. No other alias."

The Joker's smile spread slowly across his lips. So, Gordon _had _done some of his homework after all. Too bad he'd been so thorough. It was all for nothing. Slowly, The Joker stepped out of the shadows towards Gordon. He watched the officer's muscles tighten and the deadly smile grew a little larger.

"Of course there wouldn't be." he replied, suddenly sounding angry and serious, towering over Gordon, even from five feet away. "In a game of chance, you don't leave the cards lying on the table."

Gordon scowled. The Joker thought he might even have heard a growl coming from him. His smile remained. He was impressed, even if the officer had allowed his entire unit to be kidnapped and shot at. Gordon had balls, that was for damn sure

"But ya see," he continued, suddenly perking up again. "that's the funny thing about chance. Chance can be your, uh, your _maker_, or your_ undoing_. _You_ took a chance. Look where it got you. _I_ took a chance, and I came out on top."

The officer looked stumped, but slowly turned back into a careful frown.

"Leave my family out of this." he said simply.

He was taken aback. How polite of Gordon to simply ask him outright! What a nice gesture. He took another step closer towards Gordon, a surprised and slightly offended look on his face.

"_Me?_" he asked, sounding almost hurt. "Hurt _them_? Why Gordon, you give me too much credit. No. No, I won't hurt them. No. Not dear sweet...Barbra, wasn't it?"

Gordon winced. The sight made him smile.

"And little.....Jim Junior?"

The tortured look of both panic and pain stayed stuck on Gordon's face, though he hid it well. It was just because The Joker was good at what he did. He could spot it easily. He was what his father had once liked to call '_a people person'._

Gordon looked incredulously at the floor, scowling through his swollen lip. For a brief minute, The Joker felt bad. He'd been the one to give Gordon that cut up lip, after all. But he quickly shook his head, banishing the humanity back down into the watery depths. There was no room for empathy. No, no, no.

"Why get them involved?" Gordon asked solemnly to the floor. "You couldn't. So much needless bloodshed."

He looked up into the darkness, finally looking at the right spot. He had the look about him too. The _humanity_.

"You must have some family too, somewhere."

_'Somewhere' being the operative word. _He thought to himself.

But wow, was that unexpected. Officer Gordon, capable of showing compassion. That unnerved him a bit and he shook his head. No. No, why would his new pet be as humane as the rest of them? Surely not. No, he didn't care about his family aesthetics. It was just another cheap cop trick. Another cheap trick that he wouldn't fall for. Shaking his head as quickly as he could, he tried to get back on track.

His family. Wow, that was a thought. It had been at least nine years since he'd thought about them last. Who would have thought that Officer Gordon bringing them up would have upset him so much? Geez, it didn't even matter! They were almost certainly all dead by now anyway! He'd made sure of it. Or had he? He was almost certain that he'd taken down the mailbox with a chainsaw as a starter. Things were getting so much harder to remember these days....

He ignored Gordon's statement. God, he was too shaken up! Why was this bothering him so freakin' much? It didn't fucking matter – as usual! It was that bastard humanity again! That goddamn look Gordon had given him!

He stalked into the shadows and away from Gordon. He received no reply, nor would he. Stupid fucking pig had really pissed him off now! He knew it was only a matter of time before that stupid snot-nosed kid came back again, bitching and whining like always. And it was all Gordon's fault!

Striding out of the shadows in the single long step, he lurched forward and punched Gordon square in the face. The officer's head shot backwards, his glasses dislodging and clattering onto the concrete floor beneath him. A small trickle of blood leaked underneath the bridge of his nose. But it didn't make The Joker smile. No. Not now, not anymore. He had had too much now. Too much humanity for one day. And it pissed him off.

He stood there, looking down at Gordon, breathing a little too heavily. The officer's head slowly came back to its original place and he squinted against the darkness without his glasses, like a naked mole rat in a brightly lit mall. He clenched his fists and felt them trembling until his nails dug into the palms of his hands. He felt a prick, like a small tearing of skin and sighed greatly through his nose when he realised that he'd drawn blood.

_Better. _He told himself. _Better._

With another deep sigh and a single fist still shaking, The Joker leant down to pick up Gordon's glasses, placed them back on the officer's face and tapped him on the cheek. Without a second thought, he then turned back around towards the exit, flooding the empty holding room with light from the outside.

Officer Gordon was immediately snuffed out when the door closed again.

–

_The door slammed shut. He felt for his head, feeling the thumping pain behind it. He hadn't been doing anything, but it had made him angry. He was always angry._

_Wiping the trace of blood from his eyes, he swayed as he looked down at the usual space on the floor, near the doormat. This time, he wasn't disappointed. It was here! Finally!_

_Ignoring the loud squalling sound from across the hall and the throbbing pain behind his eyes, he knelt down and picked up the mail on the floor. Hopefully his father would be done with him for today. Hopefully, he would go back to his needles and his friends. He needed to take every advantage that he could._

_Rifling through the mail in his hand, he sought for the one with his name on it. The one that he knew was his be all and end all. He sniffed, feeling himself swaying on the spot. How hard had he hit him this time? Was it just a little too much? Not that he cared anyway._

_The squalling continued. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance, but he ignored it a minute longer. The house smelt like burning chemicals and dirt. No doubt his father's attempts at home brewing again. He wouldn't be surprised if his mother was down the hall now, passed out on the stuff. Or worse. He hadn't seen her in a few days._

"_Where'ar ya, ya little shit?"_

_He shuddered at the loud gravelly voice, taking his first shaky step into the run-down little place that was called his home. It was called that, but he didn't feel that it was. He didn't feel at home anywhere. His father made sure of that. He took another tender step forward, listening out for the low mewing sound. They'd probably left him alone again. He wondered how long it had been since the kid had eaten._

_When he heard the low moaning of his baby brother, he breathed out a sigh of relief. It meant he was still breathing. Hopefully his father had gone back to doing whatever it was he needed to do, thou he doubted it. It would bide him some more time. Looking down at the mail in his hands, he finally came across the one he had been looking for. His mail. His hands shook a little as he looked at it and he licked at his lips. A droplet of blood fell from above his eyebrow, staining the white paper. He looked at it, wondering if he was a little concust. Blood was a very pretty thing to behold. White and red. Death and nothingness. It made no sense to him, yet all the sense in the world at the same time. He opened his mouth a little, breathing a bit too hard. His eyes ached. How long had it been since he'd slept? Probably three days._

"_Jay, ya little gobshite!"_

_He wanted to stay and look at the blood, but that same gravelly voice stirred him into action. Fear clung at his insides like molten lead and he froze in place. He would have to keep moving. If he didn't, he was sure to fall into another of his father's hellish lessons. But first thing was first._

_Swallowing a big lump in his throat, he walked down the dank and dingy hallway towards his brother's room. Barely six months old, born into a family that would never care for him. As he suspected, there the little boy was, sat in his cot, mewing for a mother that would never come. No doubt she was passed out in the kitchen again. It was a wonder she was still alive, really. _

_Reaching into the cot and picking up his little brother underneath the arms, he bobbed up and down trying to soothe him. The movement made him dizzy again and he swayed on the spot, retching. Luckily, after a minute, it passed. He must have really been hit hard this time. His vision was starting to blur. _

_He looked down at the little boy in his arms. He stank like anything. The little boy needed a bath. Not that there was anything to bathe him with. The bills hadn't been paid again. They had bigger problems to worry about._

_Wrinkling his nose at the smell, he carried his little brother through the hallway towards the kitchen. Hopefully there would be something there. If at all. The letter remained clutched tightly in his hand._

"_Gemme' my pills!" he heard his father screaming in the next room._

_He walked into the kitchen, expecting something. _

_He expected to see his mother there, lying against the breakfast bar with her eyes cast skywards. But instead, she was on the floor. He stood there for a moment, holding his baby brother and looking down at her lifeless body slumped on the filthy kitchen tiles. His voice sounded louder to him that the screaming wind in his ears. _

"_M-mom?" _

_She didn't respond. His little brother began squalling again, rubbing at his eyes with tiny malnourished fists. He bounced him up and down a few times, uncertain of what to do. There looked like a large brown stain next to her head. Maybe she'd spilt something again. What if she'd had one of her episodes when he wasn't there? He hadn't been home in four days. That's why his father had been so angry. The house smelt worse the normal. Had his father been making something again?_

"_Mom."_

_Still nothing. His ears pounded, echoing inside his brain and bouncing off the walls like a mental patient at Archym. Swallowing another lump in his throat, he placed his baby brother down on the tar stained linoleum, ignoring him when he squealed in protest. For a minute, he stood there. Looking down on the lifeless form of his mother. Her curly brown hair was matted and foul smelling and she looked paler than normal, though he couldn't see her face. She was turned away from him, slumped down on the floor at an odd angle._

_He coughed, hoping to make his presence heard. It sounded too loud to him. Like an avalanche. Still his mother did nothing. She just lay there, unmoving. Probably not breathing. Stinking and foul. _

"_Jay!" his father screamed. "Gemme' my fuckin' pills! Your mam fell!"_

_But his mother hadn't fallen. He knew that already. He balled his hands into fists, crumpling up the letter in his hand as he did so. His small fists shook angrily, trembling silently as he stared down at the lifeless form of his mother. She was dirty and broken and soulless. He had decided that long ago. He had decided long ago that souls were a load of lying bullshit._

"_M-mom...." his voice trembled as he bit down as hard as he could on the inside of his mouth. _

_He couldn't cry. Crying was for the weak. That's what his father said. When he cried, he had to be taught otherwise. He wasn't allowed to show the weakness. His father called it 'the humanity'. Sometimes he would say that the human people of the world all deserved to die screaming in fiery agony. He couldn't understand that. Weren't they all people? Wasn't his father a human too?_

"_I-I hate you, Mom...."_

_The muffled, angry voice inside his head replied for her._

"_I know, son."_

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note's : I don't really like that last memory, but obviously, it's yours to judge. Chapters will be up and running as soon as I can get access to a computer. I promise you now, things will get done!**


	11. The First Strike

**Worst Fear - a Joker Story **

**Meeoko **

**Summary : They say the night is darkest before the dawn. But I like the dark - I like it a lot! That's why I built an army. An army of fallen angels. Joker-focused fic. Begins just before The Dark Knight. Rated M.**

**Author's Note's : Hey folks. Sorry it's been such a long time since I last uploaded. Anyway, here's the next part of the adventure!**

* * *

Alfred sat inside the penthouse kitchen, watching the television, sipping his cup of tea and thinking. He was thinking about Master Wayne. He'd spent a lot of time down at the pier again, working for hours at a time on surveillance tapes and analysis's. It wasn't healthy for the young master to be working so ardently, but Alfred knew there was nothing he could do about it.

Even as a young boy, Master Wayne had never been one for taking it easy. He always liked to live by his own rules and some things never changed.

"_...the damage left over from what is now being called 'Gotham's Inferno' has been called catastrophic. Many of the Gotham offshore islands had to have been evacuated as residents fled from their homes to escape the blaze."_

Alfred rolled his eyes. He knew it all too well these days. Bloody hell, things had been so much easier in the Gulf.

"_A new development has arisen in connection with the cause of the fire. After speaking with Deputy Fire Marshall, Aiden Mitchell, who was incapacitated during the time of the inferno, it's quite clear that this was in fact, a planned attack. In connection with the Gotham Police Department's missing Major Crimes unit, it seems that the Gotham Inferno has been traced back to the alleged terrorist known only as 'The Joker'."_

Alfred took another sip of his tea. He wondered just what was happening to Mr. Jim Gordon right then and there. He was almost a hundred percent certain that it wouldn't be pleasant, but he hoped for Master Wayne's sake that the officer was alright. It seems that the young master had taken quite a shine to the leader of the Major Crimes Unit, ever since they had been forced to unite over The Scarecrow terrorist plots.

"_...responsible for destroying local mental institution, Archym Asylum and the deaths of almost a hundred people. It has emerged from the Gotham Police Department that the terrorist is also responsible for kidnapping at least thirty patients from the institute and taking police lieutenant, Officer Jim Gordon hostage before the initial terrorist attack."_

The intercom buzzed. Alfred looked up from the television, mid sip. He immediately got up from his chair and headed towards the cupboard. He pulled out an aspirin for himself, all ready and waiting. Master Wayne's excursions did leave him with a pounding headache. But it was a good sign. Hopefully, the only times Master Wayne needed him were for advice, to brag, or to let him know about his latest Batman escapade.

It was about bloody time, that much was for sure! It'd been almost a day since Alfred had heard from his young master.

Alfred took a deep sip of his tea, popping the aspirin tablet into his mouth as he did so. Walking briskly through the door, Alfred headed in the direction of his young master's bedroom.

"_...is considered armed and extremely dangerous. If you see or know anything about the terrorist known as 'The Joker', please call us at...."_

* * *

"Ow."

He stabbed at himself again.

"Ow."

And again, point first this time.

"Ow."

He was growing bored. Not only bored, but annoyed. His anger had finally abated after Officer Gordon's......comment. But now, he didn't know what else to do. He supposed he could send out another broadcast to the Bat. He was awfully slow. It had been an entire eighteen hours since the great 'Gotham Inferno'.

"Ow."

He sucked at his hand, where the little droplets of blood were pooling. Sucking the blood out of the small nicks, he spat it out again onto the concrete.

"Goddamn little punk, goin' off and ruining my plans." he muttered to himself. "Should'a killed him when I had the chance..."

He was not pleased with Newcomer. The stupid kid had gone and got himself stuck inside a cell with a bunch'a pissed off cops! Now he was one cop short, seeing as Newcomer's little 'girlfriend' had gone and shot one'a them in the head.

It was quite a turn-on, really. Any woman that could wield a gun like that and not give two shits had his respect. He'd already sought her out more than once in the hope of relieving some of the stresses of holding the entire Major Crimes Unit hostage. But nobody knew where the hell she was. It was disappointing. He licked his lips at the thought. Damn pretty thing, she was. And a killer to boot! And who said a woman's work was never done?

"Ow."

He chuckled to himself, once again jabbing the tip of the small blade into the back of his hand. Sure, it hurt. But pain was a farce. Pain was lies. Pain only had as much command as you let it. And he was bored. Bored and thinking about things he knew he shouldn't be.

Officer Gordon's statement lay on his mind. _You must have a family somewhere, _he had said. Pfft! Family! What the hell did he know about family? The last time he'd even thought about them had been nine years ago when he'd heard that somebody had decimated his father's grave. Not that he'd really cared. He remembered that he'd gone to see it. He hadn't thrown flowers down like the other mourners. He'd just stared at it. And what more was he expected to do? His father had been a complete and total psycho!

"Like father like son." he muttered to himself.

Family was a strong word. He'd only had a family once and it had been taken away from him. He had found a family in one that he had broken up. But now she was gone. He thought about her sometimes, but never dwelt on it. Sure, it had been a tough ride, but he'd come out the other end a bigger man!

"B-boss?"

He looked up from his place on the floor, popping his lips in boredom as he did so. He rolled his eyes when he saw that it was one of the fat angels. The one with the phone inside him, if he remembered.

"We-we found him, boss."

_Excellent._

"About time." he mumbled to himself.

Newcomer had been missing since the incident in one of the holding rooms. It seems that both he and Sweetheart had disappeared together. The thought made him scowl. It wasn't like the kid would be using his time well, after all. Little shit didn't even know what to do with a woman!

"Bring him in." he motioned to the fat angel, placing the small knife back in his pocket.

He could already hear the boy outside, probably whining and mumbling to himself. Big mistake. Crybabies always pissed him off. Sure, he liked Newcomer. But there was no room for favourites in an army. Especially when he was the one running the show. The little shit would have to learn sometime.

The whining sound became louder as Newcomer's head popped around the corner, slung like a sack of potatoes between two of his fellow angels. His head lolled towards the floor as he was dragged in, unable to meet his boss in the eye. Damn, that pissed him off.

He was in a killing mood. He wouldn't kill the kid, that much he was sure of. No. He was too good at what he did. He was the most reliable. The most deluded bastard of them all! And it wouldn't do to go sacrificing his best soldier now, would it? But the kid needed to learn some manners, and he would be the one to do it.

Newcomer let out a pained, animal-like cry when the men dropped him to the floor. One kicked him in the ankle quite softly. Whether that was meant to be reassuring or not, he wasn't sure. He shot the man daggers, bringing his lips back to show primal teeth. The angel seemed to cower under the weight of the gaze as he and his counterpart slunk from the room. Newcomer sniffed, still not looking up at him.

It was time the boy had to grow up.

"....Come to join us finally." he mumbled angrily, his gaze moving over towards Newcomer. "How _tactile_. Just when I was beginning to calm down."

Newcomer trembled, though he still didn't look up. The Joker sighed, heaving as he pulled himself up off of the floor. His goddamn leg was still a bit stiff from where that big lug, Marty had stabbed him. He stalked forward a step as he looked down on Newcomer. The fallen angel.

"You think I wouldn't find you, huh?" he mumbled angrily. "Ya think I'm stupid?"

Newcomer shook his head, still looking down at the floor. A little strand of black hair dripped down from behind his face, and it made him look downright pathetic. The Joker puffed out his lips, poking at the insides of his scar with his tongue.

"No?" he rephrased for the boy. "_No_? Then why'd'ya run away like a scared little girl? Did you feel personally responsible for jeopardising what I've made? Did you think I wouldn't take too kindly to your little...._mistake?_"

Newcomer remained still, his head bowed down low at the concrete. As quick as a flash, anger flared up inside of The Joker and he struck out at Newcomer. The blow connected hard with the boy's face and he fell to the floor, letting out a pathetic cry as he did so. The Joker spat on the floor beside Newcomer, looking down at the pathetic limp body laying before him. Newcomer slowly rose his head from the concrete, a small trickle of blood coming from his mouth. He didn't attempt to get back up or to wipe away the blood. Instead, he looked up at his leader, dumbstruck and fallen.

The Joker snorted through his nose, his anger gone as quickly as it had come. He looked down at Newcomer, his big terrified eyes looking watery and weak as he beheld his leader's anger. It pleased him to see the boy quiver. He hadn't expected to feel this way. He had expected to feel bad about punishing the boy, as one of the only recruits that he didn't want to murder. But he didn't. He felt a small thrill of triumph and a primal, animal need to lash out at the boy, so that he could be taught his place. Survival of the fittest. That was what defined the leaders from the followers and The Joker had _never _been one to follow.

He took in a slow breaththrough his nose and smoothed back his hair with his hands.

"What do you think the correct...._punishment_ might be for something as deliberate as killing one of my nice hostages?" he lulled, stroking his chin for emphasis. The little droplets of blood on the back of his hand collected into a stream and a single drop of blood fell from his fingers and onto the floor.

"Because there's no room for mistakes in my world, kid." he shook his head. "No, no, _no_. No mistakes!"

Newcomer's eyes fell to the floor once more. A small whimper came from behind his lips and The Joker felt another well of anger well up inside him. Goddamnit, he _hated _cry babies! Throwing his arms out in front of him, he darted forward. Newcomer flinched away, but wasn't quick enough to avoid him. The Joker grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to his feet, so that the boy stood about three inches shorter than him. The height advantage pleased him and he took full advantage of it as he loomed over the boy.

"Don't you see what I'm trying to _do_?" he barked, so that Newcomer flinched and let out a low whine. "Don't you understand that I'm trying to help you freakin' people? Don't you _want _your goddamn wings back?"

Newcomer's eyes were wide as he hurriedly nodded his head up and down. He swallowed and The Joker tightened his grip around the collar of the boy's shirt, enjoying it when Newcomer's mouth squeezed together like he was sucking on a lemon.

"Oh, you _do_, do ya?" he barked in Newcomer's face, laughing. "Then why'd ya act like you don't? What's the point in lying to yourself like that, huh? Don't you understand your own motives? Your own _desires_?"

He dropped Newcomer to the floor. The boy landed with a thump on his backside with his hands splayed out behind him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. The Joker tittered to himself, but regained his composure as he smacked his lips together. This stupid kid hadn't had nearly enough, but now wasn't the time. He needed to get things done.

"I knew a guy like you once." he spoke slowly "no family, no friends. He followed me like a dog follows its master. I'd even go so far as to say that he was a _friend_. And one day, I got into a little....._trouble_. Now this guy, he didn't try to stop what was happening. _No_. No, he instead sat back and watched as they pulled my toe nails out. All that senseless loyalty – gone. Lost to _fear._"

The Joker turned back towards Newcomer and looked him square in the eye. Another warm trickle of blood fell from his fingertips and he toyed with the end of the knife in one of his pockets. It felt good against his skin and for a moment, he thought about giving Newcomer his own signature smile.

"So ya know what I did?"

Newcomer swallowed a lump in his throat and slowly shook his head from side to side. The Joker licked his lips as he fought the urge to bar his teeth. He walked slowly forward, one step, then two. Finally, with a third step, he reached Newcomer. Bending down onto his haunches, he looked Newcomer in the eye and held his gaze for a few moments. The boy was trembling now, a trickle of sweat running down his brow. The Joker slowly raised his top lip in an animal snarl, remembering something that he didn't want to as his thoughts turned to Officer Gordon's comment. He leant in towards Newcomer until his lips were beside the boy's ear and angrily whispered:

"I made the fear go away. I gave him a _smile._"

Newcomer trembled. A small whimper escaped his lips, though The Joker was sure that the boy didn't fully understand the implications of giving someone a smile such as his. With a loud bark, he pushed the boy backwards onto the concrete. Newcomer landed with a loud _thump _on the floor as he tried to scrabble away. Rising to his feet, The Joker pulled the small knife from inside his pocket and began to walk towards the boy.

"But you wouldn't betray me, would you?" he asked as he stalked towards the boy. "You know better than that, don't ya?"

Newcomer nodded his head frantically up and down as the head angel descended upon him. It was a pitiful sight to behold and The Joker felt a little anger burning up inside him at the boy's weakness. He stopped walking as he stood over Newcomer, looking down angrily at him. He knew the boy needed to be punished and he would deliver it accordingly. He would try not to enjoy it, but it was unlikely. Very unlikely.

"But you've done wrong, kid." he snarled. "And that's strike one."

* * *

Jim sat in the darkness, wondering exactly what was going to happen. He was thinking about what The Joker had said about his family and how he had reacted when he had asked him about his own family. It had obviously hit a soft spot, that much was certain. But Jim couldn't understand why. This man, this crazed, deranged man that had captured the entire Major Crimes Department, scared of a question about his family? It couldn't be.

Jim's head was pounding. His head throbbed from where The Joker had hit him and he couldn't rid himself of the taste of blood inside of his mouth. He'd opened up that damn cut again. There was a cold draft in the empty room and Jim shivered in his chair. He was pestered by questions and niggling thoughts. Where had he gone so wrong? Where was his team? What had happened to the Batman? And why was he even here in the first place?

It seemed that there would never be an answer to his questions. It was difficult at best to reason anything out of the crazed clown's mouth.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Jim raised his head from his chest, squinting into the darkness. What was that noise? What if The Joker was back for another chat? Jim waited, listening to the sound. It almost sounded distant, as if it were happening from somewhere far off. He wondered whether it was some of The Joker's goons, entertaining themselves with something menial. Most of them were seriously mentally ill, after all. Jim shivered at the thought of the harm that they could do if left to their own devices.

"Gordon!"

Out of the shadows, there came the voice that Jim had been hoping to hear. And soon, out of the darkness he came. Camouflaged so well against the shadows, Jim almost missed him. The dark crusader swooped in front of him, his dark eyes cast long against his face in the darkness.

"Thank Christ!" Jim gasped as he beheld the Batman. "How did you find us?"

The Batman swept around behind Jim, holding a gadget in his hand. There was a whizzing sound and the flying of sparks behind his back as the Batman cut away at the handcuffs. Jim almost lurched forward onto his face as his arms were set free ad he rubbed at his wrists where the cuffs had cut into them.

Batman plucked something from his belt and Jim saw that he was holding the little black screen that Jim also had one of. They had used it to communicate during the fire. So that was how he had found him! He must have had a tracking device plugged into the thing.

"Where are your men?" the dark, gravelly voice asked him.

Jim shook his head. As soon as he had been slung out of the fire truck, he and his men had been separated.

"What about the hostages?" Jim asked him hurriedly, aware that at any time they could be discovered. "Did you get them out?"

The Batman's eyes narrowed a fraction as he frowned. Jim thought that for a minute, he looked a little murderous. Obviously, The Joker had been screwing him around just as much as the Gotham Police Department.

"It was a decoy." the Batman replied, sounding irritable. "Here."

He handed Jim a small gun and Jim instantly felt all the better for having it. He knew it was against the Batman's rules to kill, but it certainly wasn't against Jim's if he had to. He admired the Batman for even carrying the gun to him. It was almost out of character for him to go back against himself like that. But then again, there wasn't anything normal about the situation. Jim was still getting to grips with it all himself.

Jim nodded to the Batman, who instantly nodded back and slunk away into the shadows. Jim followed quickly, hot on the Batman's heels as his cape flicked out behind him. Jim was going to get out of here if it was the last thing that he did. He had to get back to Barbara and make sure that they were safe. He had to get them into a secure location and away from the madman that had threatened their lives.

The hall was bigger than Jim had first thought. He remembered the position of the door that The Joker had barged through and tried to navigate his way towards it in pursuit of the Batman. He ran across the concrete, occasionally slipping over something squelchy on the floor. He hoped to God it wasn't what he thought it was.

They reached the door. The Batman slunk up against it and Jim followed suit. Slowly, Batman reached out to touch the handle of the door with his gloved hand. He turned the knob painfully slowly and Jim could feel his heart beating a mile a minute. His head was pounding and he hoped that it was lighter wherever they were going. Jim's vision was failing him in his age and he couldn't see very well in the darkness.

With the most inaudible of creaks, the door opened. A sliver of light stretched across the floor as the door creaked open slowly. The Batman peered inside, motioning to Jim that there were two men opposite the door. Jim nodded, preparing himself for the attack. With a swoop, the Batman leapt through the door and launched himself onto one of the masked men standing beside the door. Jim barged in through the door, gun pointed forward. A guard came at him, brandishing a rifle. Jim skipped to the side before the weapon fired with a loud bang, knocking the rifle to the side and punching the masked man in the face. The man faltered but did not fall and Jim drew back for another hit.

_Crack!_

Jim's fist connected with the porcelain mask and it shattered. The man fell backwards, dropping his gun as he did so. Jim swooped in to dismantle the man's gun and turned to the Batman to see that the dark knight was waiting for him to follow down the hall. The masked clown lay on the floor, and Jim was able to see through a break in the porcelain. He could see a single closed eye. Jim's fist stung like a bitch, but he turned on his heel and followed the Batman down the hall, zipping up his bulletproof vest as he did so.

They sped down the hallway on silent feet. Jim followed closely behind Batman, hoping that the swish of the man's cape would not give them away. They reached another corner and both immediately threw themselves against it. Through the silence, they could hear a banging coming from above them. Jim assumed that that was where his men were being kept. For a moment, he thought about Romerez and worried for her safety.

The Batman immediately charged around the corner and Jim followed suit. A shout was heard and then a single round was fired before Jim took aim. Sparks flew as a bullet bounced away from the Batman's body armour and Jim slid to the floor underneath the aim of another gun. As he heard the gun go off and watched the bullet fly over his head, he took aim and fired. The bullet flew through the air and Jim could almost see the shock waves fly through the air as it sped towards the masked clown. The bullet connected. The man fell, screaming and clutching at his now shattered knee cap.

The Batman took care of the other two clowns with two well-aimed punches and a swerving kick. The man fell to the floor, each grunting as they did so. Jim ran up to the man that he had shot and immediately put the gun to his head. He wasn't aiming to kill. These were patients from Archym, after all! The man continued to scream as he clutched at his broken knee cap and Jim was terrified that the screams resounded around the building. With the butt of his gun, Jim hit the man square on the head. He fell like a sack of potatoes, now silent.

They continued to run through the corridors, looking for a set of stairs. Each room they passed, they looked in. But there was no such luck. Jim ran behind the Batman, beginning to tire. Finally, they reached a set of stairs. Jim took them two at a time as he followed behind the Batman. They reached the second level and as soon as Jim looked down the hallway, he made a promise to himself that he would free Romerez.

Guns fired. The whole building was aware of their arrival now. Jim hid behind the Batman as they ran, the bullets whizzing past them. Obviously, these men had no such experience with guns and Jim hoped to take advantage of it.

"There!" the Batman rumbled, pointing at a room surrounded by three men.

Jim nodded and ran full pelt up the the men. He squealed to a halt behind a pillar, taking careful aim at the men standing in front of the room. He could hear it now. The banging. His men were in there, damnit and he was going to get them out! Taking aim, Jim fired a round from his gun. He missed and instantly ducked back behind the pillar as a series of bullets whizzed past his head. He could see the Batman running forward towards them, fists closed and raised. He ran towards a clown at full speed and pushed his gun aside like a rag doll, punching him square in the face.

Jim reeled around the pillar and took aim again. It was a big room and he was certain that any moment now, more clowns would arrive to take care of them. The thought spurred him on, determined to get to his men before that could happen. He fired his gun and a clown went down, his precision rifle falling to the floor.

Jim wheeled away from the pillar and ran flat out towards the door. The Batman was dancing with the remaining clown, with the clown in a painful looking arm lock. He reached the door in a matter of seconds.

"Get away from the door!" he yelled before booting the door.

It didn't budge. Jim tried again and felt the door give way. He kicked at the door a third time and it fell forward into the darkness. Jim squinted into the dark and dingy room. Suddenly, the smell of death hit him in the face. He could smell the strong scent of blood and for a second, panic froze him. What had happened? Had Romerez bled to death?

"Gordon!"

Suddenly, out of the darkness, there they were! His men! Several of them looked bruised and battered, with bloody lips and scalded faces. Jim looked down onto the floor, where he could see a body. His face fell. Looking down at the body, he realised that it was Officer Perry. He had been a good and brave man and suddenly, Jim felt a huge wave of guilt splash against his insides. If it hadn't been for his mistakes, then Perry would still be there.

"Gordon! What the hell took you so long?"

He looked up. Standing there, supported by another man and in her torn and tattered riot gear, stood Romerez. She looked almost angry, but relieved. Jim knew that look well and he fought the urge to smile despite his panic.

"Get them out of here!" he heard the Batman bark. "I'm going for The Joker!"

Jim nodded. He knew what he needed to do.

* * *

**Author's Note's : Dun dun dun! What's Jim going to do now?**


End file.
